Test Of Integrity
by Slug's bay
Summary: Tony penetrates a human smuggling ring. Pre season 1. COMPLETE
1. At CTU

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own 24 or any of the characters

Leaning comfortably backwards in his chair, twirling a pen in his fingers, Tony failed to notice Jack push open his office door and head downstairs. It was a scene he rarely missed, but at that moment his mind was miles away, wondering where to take his young niece the following day. The beach was out of the question he decided reluctantly, as it was cold and the latest weather forecast indicated heavy rain. The zoo was out too for the same reason, so that left… Well, it didn't really leave him with terribly many alternatives. Either he would take her to the toy store, or he would be forced to play dolls with her. Tony grinned in amusement and opted for the trip to the toy store.

'Tony, you finished already?' Jack inquired, his close proximity making Tony jump.

'Almost,' he answered guiltily, aware the mundane tasks handed to him that day required completion.

'Can I see you upstairs in my office for a minute?' Jack asked; his tone indicating the question was one only out of politeness.

_Why don't you say what you mean, Jack?_ Tony thought as he stood up to follow his boss upstairs. _Get into my office right away, Tony! What do you imagine you're doing, wasting time? Don't imagine you're leaving before the file is complete!_ Tony forced a silent sigh down and climbed the remaining few stairs, noting Jack had reached the office ahead of him and left the door open, his face grave. _Oh boy, he looks a little mad. How late were you this morning, Almeida? Only ten minutes, that's not too bad really, it couldn't be that._ He hoped so anyway, aware he had been a little late every day that week. _Or did I fail to complete something, or send it to the wrong file? No, I double checked everything. Oh God, don't tell me he discovered the files on Maria's latest boyfriend? Please God not that,_ Tony prayed, pausing in his tracks. His youngest sister appeared interested in a different boy at college every week and he had been coerced into providing a detailed background check on each of them. Of course he had protested weakly each time she begged him for the information, but he had complied, mainly to make certain the guy was suitable for his sister, of course. If Jack ever discovered it, he was busted, fired too, almost certainly.

'Tony?' Jack inquired, returning to his door to stare at him in surprise. 'Are you ok?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied, forcing himself up the stairs. Jack stepped back and he entered the office, instinctively gazing across the bullpen. Nina appeared busy working on her computer, and Jamie crossed the floor leisurely, carrying a mug. It was coffee time; he normally joined her around now, carrying his precious Cubs mug into the break room. He refused to leave it there after several employees had 'borrowed' it.

'Not a bad view,' Jack said, following his gaze. 'Sit down, Tony.'

Tony swallowed and pulled out the chair opposite his desk, racking his brains for anything else that might merit a stern warning. He pulled an impassive mask onto his face, much as he had worn in the marines during inspection by some visiting officers.

'Tony, I just got off the phone with Ryan Chappelle over at Division,' Jack began, tapping a finger on his desk. 'Thing is, he wants to see us both at 6:00 tonight.'

Tony's heart skipped a beat and he was certain his face turned red. It was his one weakness eight years in the marines had failed to remove, his emotions, and right at the moment they threatened to choke him. 'Mr. Chappelle wants to see me?' he echoed, desperately hoping he hadn't heard right.

To his dismay Jack nodded. 'That's right. Especially you, from what I understood.' His eyes raked the younger man, whose discomfort was obvious. 'You have any idea what it's about?'

Tony shook his head, forcing himself from squirming on his chair. _Oh God, please don't let Mr. Chappelle have discovered your hacking into the police department last week, to delete a couple of speeding tickets. He'll be real pissed off, Almeida; he won't understand that Papa was terribly late for a client meeting because he was helping you collect that new lounge suite_. He gazed at the wall past Jack's head, unable to formulate a single sentence.

Jack stared at him in growing concern. 'Are you sure you're ok, Tony?' he pressed. 'You don't look well.'

Tony shook his head, muttering something about a terrible headache, and indeed it wasn't altogether a fabrication, he already felt the beginnings of one pounding in his forehead. Jack looked at him sympathetically.

'Why don't you get something from Medical?' he suggested. 'You've got nearly two hours before Chappelle wants to see us.' Tony rose gratefully. 'Tony.' He turned, swallowing. 'That case you're researching is hardly urgent. Take an hour off; it'll help your headache. Just sit down for a bit.'

'Thanks Jack,' Tony told him, and left in a hurry, keeping his pace even at an effort. He moved over to the break room and poured himself a strong coffee in his mug, sipping it slowly. The bitter taste served to calm him a little. After all, if Chappelle wanted to bust him for something he wouldn't have invited Jack for the interview. Once his mug was empty Tony poured himself a second cup, carrying it carefully over to medical.

He pushed open the glass door one handed and laid his mug on the desk, giving his burning fingers a break. 'Hi Tony,' the doctor told him. 'Take a seat. What can I do for you today?'

'I'm fine,' Tony began, surprised to see a look of resignation cross the doctor's face. 'I just need something for a headache.' His head pounded more with each passing moment, the idea of a quiet rest proved welcome.

'Sure,' replied the doctor, pointing to the mug. 'You got a headache yet you just made yourself coffee?' He frowned mildly, picked up the mug and poured the contents down the sink. 'You certainly shouldn't drink this. Let me get you something.' He rose to fetch a couple of tablets while Tony stared at his mug in dismay, unable to watch it perched on the edge of the sink. He moved to retrieve it, picking it up just as the doctor returned from the storeroom.

The middle aged doctor stared at him in the greatest astonishment. 'It's my own,' Tony said, aware an explanation was necessary.

'Hm,' was the doctor's only comment, as he handed two white tablets over the desk. 'Take those and have them with, let me see,' he got up and poured water into a paper cup. Feeling it was poor substitute for his coffee but not daring to object, Tony drank it all. 'Why don't you rest for a few minutes, until that works?' the doctor suggested and Tony nodded, following him gratefully into the next room, a dark one with drawn blinds. He closed the door and sank into a comfortable armchair, shutting his eyes.

Alone in the darkness his worries returned compounded by the headache. What could Chappelle possibly want him for? He had met the man a mere handful of times apart from his interview and the swearing of his oath, and he strongly disliked him. A summons to Division boded ill for the future, he was certain of it.

Tony groaned inwardly, remembering his invitation to his parents' house that evening. It was Friday and they would all be more cheerful and relaxed than usual – it was a time he truly enjoyed spending with them. Most of the time some of his brothers or sisters would be there as well and they would hold a real 'family' dinner, chatting and teasing each other till the early hours, when his eyes would start to close as he helped clear the table, and he would be invited yet again to spend the night there. He always accepted, hating returning to his silent apartment. Of course if he had someone waiting for him it would be totally different, but that was hardly likely considering the extremely long hours he put in at work. He had to accept it; he had little to offer as far as women were concerned. Nina never spared him a second glance, and really, she had no reason to do so.

The thought of the customary dinner depressed him. After whatever it was Chappelle planned to lecture him about, he had a strong feeling he would be unable to face it. Once the medicine numbed his headache he would call his parents and tell them he was forced to remain at work and would be unable to join them.

Half an hour later he rose and assured the doctor he was fine, heading back to his desk. He laid his mug down carefully and dialed his parents' number, groaning to himself to find it engaged.

'Hi Tony, you busy?' Jamie inquired, giving him a seductive smile.

'Not really,' he replied, shaking his head. 'I was just going to get a coffee!'

'So was I,' she told him amused, and followed him into the rec. room where he poured coffees for both of them. 'What are you doing tonight, Tony?' she inquired, pulling out a chair with a sigh. 'Fridays do tend to drag on, don't they?' she sighed, swallowing her first mouthful.

Tony nodded in complete agreement. 'Yeah, especially if there's nothing urgent. Tonight I got to see Ryan Chappelle over at Division for something.' He sipped his own coffee, reveling in the bitter taste.

Jamie stared at him interested. 'You know what he wants you for?'

Tony sighed and shook his head. 'No idea.' He swallowed more coffee, burning his tongue.

Jamie grinned at him. 'You done anything to get busted for Tony? Apart from arriving late every morning.'

'Hey, it's only a coupla minutes,' he protested, rubbing his face. So she had noticed. He wondered how many others had noticed too, resolving to turn his alarm on even earlier next week and arrive on time. 'I don't know what he wants,' he admitted. 'You heard anything?'

'Only a few rumors of a mission being planned,' she replied, laying her empty cup on the table. 'Maybe Chappelle wants you on it.' She looked intrigued at the thought.

Tony shook his head. 'No way. I'm not a field agent, Jamie, I had ENOUGH of that in the Marines, trust me! And there's no reason he could want me, he's got plenty of field agents who are trained for this kinda thing.'

'You're cleared for the field,' she reminded him. 'If you think about it, Tony, there's no real reason he can't send you on a mission if he chooses to do so.'

'Like I said, he's got dozens of agents to choose from,' Tony replied, pouring himself a third coffee. He drank it in silence, mulling over her words. Soon she returned to her work and he followed her, carrying the coffee back to his desk. He dialed his parents again, annoyed to find the line remained engaged. 'If it's Maria chatting about her latest boyfriend, I'll never get through,' he sighed, placing the phone down a little harder than necessary. In desperation he tried his father's cell, but as usual found he had forgotten to charge it. His mother's cell rang for a while before asking him to leave a message and he hung up frustrated, aware she would be so occupied with cooking and playing with little Sandy she would never hear her phone, let alone remember to check any messages. He resolved to try again later, viewing his chances of success as slim.

Deciding it was best to put all thoughts of the upcoming visit to Division aside, he completed his work, carrying the whole file over to Jack. 'I'm done now,' he told him, hoping Jack wouldn't get him started on anything else this late.

'Thanks, Tony. It's almost time to leave, anyway. Are you returning here, or do you have somewhere to go in a hurry?'

'I'll be real late for a dinner invitation,' Tony admitted reluctantly, aware of the office gossip about his weekends.

Jack nodded. 'Ok, take your car and you can leave the moment Mr. Chappelle has finished,' he said. 'Just park anywhere you find an empty bay, most people will be heading home by now.'

'Aha' he agreed and returned to his desk, placing a few incomplete forms into his drawer.

'Did you manage to complete the Fallon file, Tony?' Nina inquired, arriving unnoticed. Tony chided himself for having the second person creep up on him that afternoon and nodded.

'Yeah, I handed it in to Jack.'

'So you're heading to Division with Jack?' Nina questioned. 'Wonder what that's about,' she asked, a curious look on her face.

'I don't', he replied wryly. 'Chances are I'll get chewed out for something I forgot to do last week.' He placed his mug carefully onto his top shelf, aware of her eyes on him.

'Don't worry about that. When Ryan's pissed off, he calls Jack and tells him who screwed up, you can be sure of that, and then Jack calls that person upstairs. No, he wants you for something entirely different. Mysteries, mysteries,' she teased, returning to her desk.

Tony's eyes followed her, noting her graceful body in her tight blouse and skirt, highlighting her long straight legs and upwards to her…His eyes caught a movement and he turned, catching Jack admiring her from his office window. _That's the second time he's been staring at her with that dreamy look, _he noted, picking up his briefcase. _That's odd, he's definitely married. Could he possibly be interested in a little office romance?_ Contemplating the question, he left CTU, threw his briefcase into his car and removed his sweater. He turned carefully, laying it on the back seat beside his guitar, which he had packed in the morning ready to take to the dinner.

It took over half an hour in peak hour traffic to reach the imposing building. Tony had no trouble finding a free bay as over half of them were empty, agents heading out all over the car park. He sighed enviously and locked his car, pulling his sweater back on in the cold wind. _Relax, Almeida, it won't be too bad,_ he ordered himself sternly and pushed the large glass door open, stopping beside a counter.

'I'm Tony Almeida, CTU,' he said, pulling out his card to show the security guard. 'I'm here to see Mr. Chappelle.'

The guard nodded and picked up his phone, confirming the appointment. 'He's got you down for 6:00 pm, Mr. Almeida,' he said. 'You're to wait in the rec. room. Step through the metal detector.'

Tony laid his keys on the desk, having been caught there on his previous visit and passed unhindered though the stringent security. He picked up his briefcase and glanced around, taking a step towards the rec. room when he heard the guard calling his name. 'Mr. Almeida.'

Tony turned, watching the man hurrying after him with his keys. 'Thanks,' he said, chiding himself for his preoccupation. This was unusual for him; he never forgot to collect his things before. The interview with Chappelle obviously rattled him more than he cared to admit. He was relieved to find the rec. room deserted and settled on a sofa, rubbing his face. _You'll be fine Almeida, just agree with the guy and apologize for whatever it is, listen to his lecture, promise to do better in the future and then get outa here._ To calm his nerves he rose restlessly, pacing the room until his eyes fell on Division's coffee machine. Unable to resist the inviting smell, he fetched a plain mug and poured himself yet another coffee, noting it tasted identical to the ones he drank at CTU.

He was halfway through his second mug when the door opened and Jack entered, laying his briefcase on a chair. 'Is that drinkable?' he inquired, fighting to keep his face even.

'Yeah,' Tony replied, unaware the majority of the staff at CTU laid bets on how much coffee he would consume daily. His eyes followed his boss's movements across the room and over to the coffee machine.

'So how many have you had while you were here?' Jack inquired in an emotionless tone, adding sugar to his cup.

'Only two,' Tony answered, puzzled. 'The medicine made me a little drowsy; I thought it would be best to wake up.' He dared not continue his thoughts aloud, _and Ryan Chappelle's voice tends to put me to sleep at the best of times._

Apparently the addition was unnecessary. Jack nodded understandingly. 'Yeah, good idea.' He carried his cup to the table and drank his coffee in silence, both men racking their brains for small talk. Fortunately the door opened again and a young agent entered. 'Mr. Bauer, Mr. Chappelle will see you and Mr. Almeida now,' she said, and they got up to follow her.

Tony resisted the urge to rub his face as they crossed the main floor of Division and climbed an imposing staircase, forcing himself to stop memories of his previous visit, just after he was employed, when he faced the customary polygraph. Jack had stood by him then, saving him from answering questions about an unauthorized rescue he undertook while he was in the Marines. His fists clenched as he remember a third man in the room watching his interrogation, an overweight man with the face of a bulldog who insisted on questioning him as to whether he would betray a family member should he discover them in a compromising situation. He had longed to leap out of the chair and strangle the man personally. _What was his name?_ he wondered as he followed Jack. _Certainly something to do with food - lunch or dinner. Lunch,_ he decided, unable to know how he knew that for certain. _Well, whatever it is, I sure hope he's not here now,_ Tony thought as he reached the top of the stairs and followed Jack along the landing.

Jack knocked on the door and they both heard Chappelle's nasally voice bid them enter. He pushed the door open and walked inside, Tony following on his heels. He found himself in a small conference room with wide windows that offered a clear view of the majority of the bullpen. Ryan Chappelle waved towards the seats nearest the door and he settled on a black leather chair beside Jack.

'Good afternoon Ryan,' Jack said, and Tony echoed him, with the exception of using the bureaucrat's title.

'Good evening, Jack, Tony,' Chappelle began. 'Bear with me a minute. Brad Hammond's joining us, and he's running a little late.'

Tony's heart sank at the mention of the name. _Hammond, that was it!_ He was unable to fathom his instant dislike of the man, but after eight years of active duty he had learned to trust his instincts and they were screaming a warning at him as he sat there. _Keep silent, Almeida! Listen to what they got to say and pretend you're one of them, a grey suited bureaucrat with no family ties, and you'll be fine!_


	2. Meeting At Division

Hammond entered the room moments after their arrival, puffing in his haste. He greeted Jack and nodded his head at Tony, who was unable to stop wondering why he had been invited to the meeting. To his intense dismay he chose a chair directly opposite him, fixing his gaze on him.

_Great! You'll have to try real hard not to fidget, Almeida. Focus. He's just a bureaucrat; he can't read your thoughts!_

Ryan Chappelle cleared his throat. 'Well, it's getting late and we're all here, so let's get started. We've got a new assignment from Washington, directly from the Minister of Immigration himself. California has been the site of an unacceptable number of illegal entries in the last financial year and early indications show the problem is worsening. We've been asked to investigate and remove some of the key players.'

'Yeah,' Jack said when he paused to make certain they were listening.

'Fact is, we got too many Latinos here already,' Hammond stated. 'They refuse to learn the language, they refuse to seek any kind of employment, they manage to get benefits somehow, clogging up our health care and they multiply like rats.' He addressed the last remark to Tony, staring directly into his eyes.

The room spun around him as he froze in disbelief, rubbing his face automatically to calm himself. Fists clenched so hard they hurt, he drew a deep breath. 'You sure about your facts, Mr. Hammond? Last I heard, illegals were working on a load of farms picking crops, receiving a coupla cents an hour!'

Jack threw him a warning look and he fell silent, seething. 'I'm sure we're talking about illegals from all round the world entering through Mexico,' he said, attempting to remove some of the tension that permeated.

'Yes, certainly, they're from all round the globe,' Chappelle confirmed. 'Our mission is to locate the middle men, the ones who smuggle these people in, rather than just round up illegals. That's best left to border control.' A silence stretched through the room, Tony struggling against his rage.

'Where exactly does CTU come into this?' Jack inquired, keeping an eye on the silent man beside him.

'We've decided it's best to tackle the problem at its source,' Chappelle continued. 'Best to send someone along undercover, to pretend to be a potential illegal and allow them to get a clandestine journey into the States. We need the necessary evidence to frame these people.'

Jack nodded. 'Makes sense. You'd arrest him once he crossed the border?'

'Not exactly,' Chappelle admitted. 'We thought we would at first, but that would send a red light to all the other profiteers. No, we decided to leave our agent with him a little longer, try to work his way into the business somehow, gain the guy's trust, hopefully meet more of his business acquaintances.'

Jack nodded again. 'I understand. You got someone in mind?'

_Sit tight, Almeida, you're doing great so far,_ Tony silently encouraged himself. _This can't last much longer. You WILL REFRAIN from making any further comments to Hammond!_

'Actually, we do,' Chappelle answered. 'It's got to be someone who could pose as an illegal, so that narrows things a little. We'd prefer sending a male for safety's sake, and preferably one with extensive weapons training, in case his cover is blown south of the border. He should speak perfect Spanish…'

All three men turned to regard Tony, who gazed at them shocked.

'Mr. Chappelle, with all due respects, Tony isn't trained in undercover work,' Jack began, seeing his horror. 'He'd expose himself the first day and blow our investigation.'

_Thanks Jack, nice vote of confidence,_ Tony thought sarcastically.

'Also, Tony is the best analyst we've got. I can't afford to lose him,' Jack stated.

'You can do without him for a coupla of weeks,' Hammond said, his tone brooking no arguments. 'You got plenty of other top class analysts. Use them.'

'Now Brad, you know I do,' Jack began, refusing to back down. 'But none of them are as good at hacking as Tony. He's already saved agents just by discovering things about suspects at the last moment. You're bound to have other Spanish speakers available.'

'Not in the time frame we're discussing,' Chappelle told him. 'Besides, we need someone who can act natural, show a little emotion. Crossing borders illegally is a traumatic experience; we need someone who will certainly lose his cool a few times.' He looked at Tony whose face turned red. 'Also, if he's to have a hope getting a job from the smuggler, he must be experienced in leadership and we all know Almeida's military record. He's the perfect choice.'

Tony shook his head. 'No disrespect, Mr. Chappelle, but I'm not field ops,' he began, struggling to keep his voice calm. 'I've had enough of missions to last me a lifetime in the Marines – that's the reason I quit!'

'Nonsense, Almeida,' Hammond interrupted. 'You fit the requirements perfectly. Hell, you'd gain the man's trust by your acquaintances alone! Don't tell me you don't know any illegals here!'

Tony's face darkened. 'No I don't, Mr. Hammond,' he lied, looking the man in the eye.

'I find that hard to believe,' Hammond snorted. 'Your own family…'

'You got something specific against my family, Mr. Hammond?' Tony questioned, rising from his seat. Jack grabbed his elbow and pushed him back firmly. 'Coz I'm getting a little tired of hearing veiled remarks all evening.' He glared at Hammond, his eyes flashing.

'Settle down this instant, Almeida,' Chappelle snapped. 'No one is implying anything. Now…'

'You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Chappelle,' Tony said. 'I don't want any part of this. I'm late enough already, so you'd do a lot better to find another guy…'

'You'll sit down right away, Almeida,' Chappelle snapped, 'otherwise…'

'Tony, it won't take much longer,' Jack told him, nodding his head at Tony's empty chair. 'Sit down!'

Tony shook his head, sitting back reluctantly, having spent too long in the Marines to blatantly refuse so many direct orders. Fists clenched, he focused on the table, not bearing to see Hammond's smug look.

'I think we've chosen the best possible person,' Hammond remarked. 'His outrage alone implies that he's well aware what we're talking about. Once Almeida settles down, he'll lead us to every one of the smugglers! After all, his parents' friends could well be... and they themselves…'

Tony swallowed hard, feeling his throat constrict until every breath was an effort. 'Mr. Hammond, my mother is American. Her entire family's been here since Texas joined the States. My father is here legally, you can check if you haven't already done so. Now…'

'That's enough, Tony,' Jack said again, glaring at him. 'We're here to listen to what Mr. Chappelle has to say.'

Tony chewed his lip furiously, able to read Jack's unspoken sentence. "We're here to listen to Mr. Chappelle…" Hammond hadn't been mentioned! Jack was ordering him to forget about Hammond and focus on Chappelle. He struggled with his rage, trying his best to focus on the situation.

'Alright, let's wrap this up so Almeida can go and prepare,' Chappelle said, as eager to end the meeting as the two CTU agents. 'We got reliable intel that a certain John Christianson is leaving for Mexico in his truck again next week - we're well aware he'll be bringing human cargo back with him. We'll need to get Almeida across the border in time to catch that truck.'

'And just how do you propose I do that, sir?' Tony inquired sarcastically. 'Stand by the road and try to catch a lift?'

'Is your headache getting worse, Tony?' Jack asked, kindly. 'Go to the rec. room and get yourself a glass of water and an aspirin, you'll feel a lot better.' He turned pointedly away from the younger man. Tony remained in his seat a moment longer, startled to find himself so summarily dismissed. 'Right away, Tony,' Jack told him sternly, turning to find him in the same position. 'We'll need you alert in a few minutes.'

'Yeah,' Tony replied, pushing his chair back. He walked to the door, turning to notice they all regarded him with grave expressions. His hands shook as he pulled it shut behind him, longing to slam it. Division was even more deserted than half an hour ago and he saw no one on his way to the rec. room. Jack had ordered him out of the room for the moment, deciding they needed to discuss him privately and he longed to hear what they said. He had sent him out on the childish pretext of getting some water! Tony scowled at the water fountain, fetching the same mug he had used instead and poured himself another coffee. He had almost finished it when Jack entered the room, frowning at him.

'Do you disobey orders deliberately, Tony?' he inquired. 'I told you to get a little water, to help you calm down. You sure don't need any more stimulation!'

Tony narrowed his eyes. 'Listen, Jack, I don't care what they say, I'm not gonna go pretend to be a refugee. I'm no actor! I'll blow our cover the first day and you'll all be back to square one.'

'Can't or won't?' Jack asked, removing the mug from his hands and depositing it in the sink. 'I think you're perfectly capable of pulling this off. Listen to me a moment, would you. We both know nothing's ever gonna stop people entering the states, we're only trying to catch the middlemen and slow it down a little. You're aware how harsh life can be for illegals.'

Tony opened his mouth to challenge him but Jack continued, louder. 'We all are! Now no one is after the group you'll be traveling with, we're only after this Christianson! Do you know what he charges for a trip across the border?'

'No Jack, I don't,' Tony snapped. 'Perhaps you can tell me.' He held Jack's gaze with his own, refusing to back down.

'That's something we'd need to find out, too,' Jack told him. 'We're aware it's well over ten thousand dollars.'

'Ten thousand!' Tony exclaimed, startled. 'That's incredible. Hell, Jack, I've driven that way dozens of times, it's not exactly a difficult drive. How the hell would anyone have that kinda money?'

'Seems they do,' Jack replied. 'This guy goes at least twice a week.'

'He'd be taking the last money those people got,' Tony observed, rubbing his face.

'Yeah,' Jack told him, noting he had calmed down. 'Find him for that reason, Tony. He's profiting from other peoples' desperation. We need to stop that.'

'Right,' Tony agreed, clenching his fists again. 'I'll find him alright, and you can be sure he won't make any more trips!'

Jack shook his head again, sternly. 'You're to find him and get some evidence, Tony and if possible discover his contacts, that's all. You're NOT to kill him, is that perfectly clear?' They glared at each other, each refusing to back down. 'Is that clear?' Jack repeated, pointing a finger at him. 'We don't gain much that way; someone else will just take his spot.'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered after a few seconds of silence.

'Good,' Jack told him, relieved. 'Now lets get upstairs and Mr. Chappelle will brief you on the mission.'

'When do I leave?' he asked, following Jack back to the conference room reluctantly.

'On Sunday. You've got tomorrow to make whatever preparations you find necessary. You'll need to get a few clothes that are a little shabby and preferably not made here, and try to look like a Mexican. I'll help you with that tomorrow.'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, sitting back at the table.

'Tony, your best option is to head right over here,' Chappelle pointed out a small town on the map, 'and ask around for anyone heading to the states. Hopefully you'll get lucky and someone will introduce you to Christianson for a small fee.'

'How much are we talking about?' Tony inquired.

'Don't worry about that, you'll get cash,' Chappelle told him. 'Also I'll give you this,' he pushed a folder across the table.

Tony opened it and withdrew a Mexican passport, gazing at it in surprise. 'This looks genuine, sir.' He examined his own picture in silence.

'It is genuine, Almeida. Our counterparts in Mexican intelligence had it made specifically for this purpose. They'll recognize it by its number, but no one else along the borders will. It's your I.D. to show Christianson and if we get lucky and you get a job with him, you'll need it. The money's also there. Call Jack if the trip proves more expensive.'

Tony pulled a wad of US dollars from underneath the passport, counting out12 000. 'It should be fine,' he observed.

'It should be,' Chappelle agreed. 'I'll require the change. We'll recover the rest once we get him.'

'I'll be sure to get you a receipt,' Tony muttered, noting Jack threw him yet another annoyed expression. _He's gonna have a bit to say to you tonight, Almeida,_ he thought, mentally shrugging it off.

'You're required to communicate with CTU once a day. Unfortunately you cannot take your cell, it would attract suspicion, but we've provided a Mexican phone card and it won't arouse any suspicion as you're a native,' Chappelle continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. 'If for any reason you are unable to let CTU know your whereabouts, you're to contact Jack at your earliest possible opportunity on his cell. Is that understood?'

'Yes sir,' Tony replied, biting back another wise comment with difficulty. Jack threw him yet another warning glance.

'Good, then that's all,' Chappelle said. 'Jack will keep us informed of your progress.'

'Oh, there's one last thing,' Tony told them, facing the entire table. 'I'm out to get Christianson ONLY! I'm going to be concentrating on him alone!'

Chappelle regarded him unblinking while Hammond's face reddened.

'You'll give us a list of EVERYTHING we ask for Almeida, the moment we ask for it,' he snapped. 'You work for us; you don't make your own rules.'

'I'll get Tony back to CTU and help prepare him,' Jack said, getting up suddenly. 'He's never been undercover before.'

'I'm not sure Almeida fully understands his responsibility to this country,' Hammond said, following them out of the briefing room.

Tony stopped on the landing, his eyes flashing. 'You don't think I know the meaning of responsibility to this country, Mr. Hammond? I served as a Marine for eight years! I fought in Somalia and the Gulf. During that time I was buried alive in a blown up building that I was helping to clear, I had to wait for four days to be rescued! I was shot twice, and I was captured once, and tortured. I think that kinda proves something!'

'Keep going, Tony,' Jack urged, pushing him from behind to get him moving towards the staircase. 'It's late and we still need to get you prepared.'

Tony swallowed his angry question about where Hammond had fought, concentrating on leaving the building as soon as possible. They followed him to the exit and cleared security, heading into an almost empty car park. 'Good evening,' Tony said, turning to head for his car, dismayed to find the three followed him. 'There was something else?' he inquired, unlocking his door, longing to get rid of them.

'Yes, Mr. Almeida. Take care,' Chappelle said, to his amazement.

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed, startled. Had he just witnessed a human moment from the born bureaucrat?

'Wait a minute, what's that?' Chappelle asked, opening the back door and pulling out his guitar.

Tony's face flushed. He gazed at it wordless, wishing he had decided to go home and pick it up later. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anyone noticing it, much less his three superiors.

'You play this?' Hammond asked, apparently understanding Chappelle's bewildering behavior.

'Not really,' Tony muttered, taking his precious instrument away from Chappelle and returning it.

'Do you play it or not, Almeida?' Chappelle asked, irritated.

'A little,' he muttered. 'It was a present.'

'It's the perfect accessory,' Chappelle told him, looking, for the first time since they had met, genuinely enthusiastic. 'You're to take this with you, Almeida.'

'You can't be serious, sir!' Tony exclaimed, shocked. 'It's quite heavy and it's old. I don't wanna damage it. Like I said, I don't play that well.'

'You don't need to play anything more than a few chords,' Chappelle told him. 'That instrument is obviously old and precious to you, which is why you've got it with you now. It would seem perfectly natural that you refuse to part with it as you begin a new life! You WILL take it with you, Tony. Is that perfectly clear?'

Tony nodded wordless, hating the need to put his grandfather's present through such a difficult trip.

'I'm waiting,' Chappelle reminded him.

'Yes sir,' he agreed reluctantly. 'I'll take it.'

'Good,' Hammond remarked. 'Once Jack gets you some shabby things and a backpack…in fact, the backpack alone might do the trick,' he said unpleasantly, regarding Tony's jeans and old sweater with the sleeves pushed over his elbow. 'Goodbye, Almeida, we'll be hearing from you.' To Tony's intense relief he left, followed by Chappelle.

He switched his car on, pushing the stick into reverse. 'Tony,' Jack said, moving out of the way. 'I need to see you at CTU for a little while, to give you a backpack and discuss undercover work. It won't take long and that way you'll have Saturday free.'

'And you'll chew me out,' Tony thought, sighing heavily. He had been put through the emotional wringer during the previous hour and felt exhausted. _Don't even try scolding me Jack; I'm well aware of my behavior. I'm just NOT in the mood!_

Back at the equally silent CTU Jack led Tony into a storeroom, handing him a large backpack. 'You'll need a few clothes in there and a coupla photos,' he said. 'Think you can get some outdoor stuff together?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied, lifting up the empty backpack. 'I got enough garbage, Jack! Are we done here, now?'

'Not yet,' Jack told him. 'Turn round, Tony.'

He glared at Tony until he obeyed, turning reluctantly to face his boss. _Here it comes_, Tony thought, leaning against the closed door and folding his arms. 'I'm kinda late, Jack,' he remarked.

'Fine, I won't keep you too much longer. What the hell did you think you were doing, arguing with Hammond? You piss him off again, he'll have you fired!'

'You know what, Jack,' Tony retorted, thoroughly riled up. 'That's just fine by me. I got to listen to insults about my character, my clothes, my background and my family! Did you hear me make any remarks about him? Did I ask how come all his wives escape after a coupla years, how come he doesn't go on a stringent diet, why… ?'

'That's enough!' Jack snapped. 'He's not exactly my favorite person either, don't get me wrong, but he's our boss. You ever argue with him again, I'LL fire you personally. You got that?'

'Yeah,' Tony snapped, reaching for the handle. 'May I go now? Like he said, I got a real shady family, who happen to be expecting me tonight! You never know what I'll find out over dinner!' He glared at Jack, his hand on the door.

'Yeah, you may go. And Tony,' he turned back only because he dared not ignore Jack, 'I'm sorry he insulted your family. That was uncalled for. Have a good evening.'


	3. Preparations

'Have a nice evening, yeah right, Jack!' Tony muttered to himself as he drove rapidly to his parents' house. 'Oh, one little thing you forgot, how am I supposed to do that? You managed to send me into the field to hunt down some smuggler, and God only knows how long it'll take me to even get a place in one of his trucks! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? And yeah, what am I supposed to tell mom? She'll want to know where I'm off to, and she sure won't be satisfied with anything less than the complete truth! In fact, they'll want to know where I've been up till now!' He pushed his foot down harder, determined not to keep them waiting any longer. 'Hopefully they'll already have started dinner, or it will certainly spoil and mom will be real annoyed.'

A flash directly behind the car distracted him and a second later a siren wailed. Glancing into the mirror, he saw a police car following him, lights flashing. 'Maldita sea!' he cursed. If there was one thing to completely spoil his evening, this was it. Reluctantly he pulled over, forcing himself to take a deep breath. _Focus, Almeida. Stay calm and show them your CTU card. It usually impresses these traffic police. It's done so several times before._

'Good evening, sir,' began a police officer, peering through the window at him. 'License and registration.'

Tony opened the glove box and searched through a collection of his young niece's drawings and his mother's old shopping lists and receipts, placing the entire pile on the passenger seat. His own papers were at the bottom, as he had suspected, for no matter how often he had been pulled over for speeding, his family's junk managed to accumulate even faster. Wordless, he passed it out to the officer.

'Antonio Almeida, CTU,' the officer read, frowning. 'Are you aware of the speed limit, Mr. Almeida?'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'Look I'm real sorry.'

The officer continued to study his card. _Come on, what's the problem? Give it back and warn me about following the road rules and let me go, I'm real late! I'd be there by now,_ he thought impatiently. The officer frowned, folding his hand round the card. 'Are you on active duty tonight, sir?' he inquired.

'Yeah,' Tony answered, deciding he hated the officer. It was almost true, really, if he thought about it. He was supposed to prepare for his undercover operation, and he couldn't do that until after he arrived at his parents' place and ate his dinner. Simply phoning them to excuse himself was out of the question, they would only presume he was sick and go to his apartment.

'And if I call CTU someone will confirm that?' continued the officer, not in the least impressed by the card.

Tony nodded confidently. 'Yes.'

'We'll see. You see, Mr. err, Almeida,' the officer glanced at the card again, 'our records indicate you've been stopped on this road three times before in the past two years and on a coupla others as well! You sure you were on duty every one of those occasions?'

Tony swallowed and nodded. 'Yes,' he said.

'Like you are tonight?' questioned the officer. 'Ok, I'll need to confirm that. Don't move!'

Tony placed his elbows on the steering wheel and laid his head in his hands, groaning aloud once the officer returned to the patrol car. 'Dammit! Why didn't that bastard just accept the card?' He rubbed his face, remembering that Jack and everyone else on his shift had long since left the office and Jack's evening counterpart was there, a man Tony intensely disliked. Would the guy give him an alibi? 'You're about to find out, Almeida,' he muttered, hearing footsteps crunch over loose gravel.

'I spoke to the director of CTU, sir, and he informed me that you had logged out at exactly 8:06 this evening. According to him, you're off duty till Sunday morning. In this case, sir, I'm writing you up a ticket for speeding. Now let's see,' he leaned against the door, puffed out from the short walk, at least 100 pounds overweight, Tony estimated. 'The speed limit on this street is 60 miles - and you were doing 80.' He gazed at his notes again, shaking his head. 'Step out of the vehicle, sir.'

'Why?' Tony demanded, as politely as he could. 'Just gimme my ticket and I'll pay the fine on Monday.'

'No sir. I'll ask you one final time to step out of the car and I suggest you do so!'

Tony shook his head in disbelief and opened the door, stepping onto the sidewalk. 'I'm out! Now if you'd hand me my ticket.'

'I'll need the keys,' the officer continued, ignoring him.

'What?' Tony exclaimed, startled. 'Why?'

'You've been booked at driving 20 miles over the speed limit in a built up area. That's an instant loss of a point! According to our records, you've been fined for speeding several times in the previous two years. You haven't got anymore points left! Your vehicle's going to be towed. Now hand me the keys.'

'I don't believe this,' Tony muttered under his breath, pulling the car keys off his key ring with difficulty. 'You know I'm gonna get it back tomorrow!'

'That's entirely up to your boss and my captain,' replied the officer unhelpfully. 'You might have a longer wait than you think. In any case, sir, next time you use this road, you'll be reminded of the speed limit!'

'Right,' Tony remarked, unable to keep silent. 'And you're not gonna let me drive it home and have it impounded there, you're gonna wait here with it and leave me stranded?'

'I can always take you in for refusing to obey a police officer,' the man told him, turning red. 'Any more comments from you, and I might just do so. Working as a Federal Agent does not give you freedom to drive whichever way you like. I don't allow off duty firemen, ambulance drivers, doctors or anyone else use their positions as an excuse and you won't get away with it either. Keys' he demanded, in a surly tone.

Tony slapped the keys into his outstretched palm, irritated beyond words. Chewing his lip, he opened the back door and pulled his guitar out, hating the thought of carrying it but not daring to leave it in the car.

'Spoilt the fiesta, did I?' asked the officer, a sly smile on his face. 'Oh well, I'm sure you'll find one next week.'

'I'm sure I will,' Tony muttered, reaching inside the car to withdraw his gun. He slid it into his gun belt, noting the officer had fallen silent. 'Good evening!'

'Good evening,' the officer replied, refusing to allow him the last word. 'Just remember you're off duty, Mr. Almeida.' He pointed to the gun before turning his back and returning to the patrol car.

Tony picked up his guitar case and set off, muttering a string of Spanish oaths, under his breath at first, then out aloud once he reached a safe distance. He walked rapidly, desiring to put as much distance between himself and the officer as he could. At this rate it would take him two hours to reach his parents' house, whilst it would have taken a mere twenty minutes by car. Once he was far enough away in the darkness he pulled out his cell, calling his parents again. 'Come on, pick up,' he breathed, not keen on the idea of the long walk. To his intense relief it was answered after a couple of rings.

'Hi,' a young voice called excitedly and the phone was removed. 'Hello.'

'Mom,' Tony began.

'Tony, where are you? Do you realize the time? We've all eaten by now.'

'Sí, I realize. Listen mom, I had to work real late and I was in a hurry to get to you, and this b officer stopped me.'

His mother groaned aloud on the other end of the line. 'Tony! How many times have I told you to remember you're home now, not in the Middle East! They got rules here!'

'Yeah, anyway, that bastard took my license, and the car.'

'What?' his mother exclaimed startled.

'So I'd really appreciate a lift,' he begged, his face burning. 'I wouldn't ask, mom, but I got the guitar…'

'Sure, sweetheart, I'll come right away,' she told him, as he had known she would. 'Where exactly are you?'

Tony gazed at the nearest crossroad and told her, and she promised to be there shortly. He sighed, rubbing his face, placing the case carefully on the ground. He fervently hoped his mother would come personally rather than send his father. She was bound to scold him sternly, but it was preferable to his father's silent reproach. Fortunately it was indeed his mother who drove up, shaking her head at him.

'Hi mom,' he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. He placed the guitar on the back seat and laid the backpack on the ground, climbing over it. 'I'm real sorry for dragging you away from dinner.'

His mother took a deep breath and he sighed, telling himself he deserved all she would tell him. 'Tony, this is hardly the first time you've been speeding. How many times have you been stopped now?'

He shook his head. 'I don't remember.'

'That sounds right,' she continued sternly. 'And you've only been back from the Middle East two years. In that time, Tony, you've been stopped at least twelve times, as far as I recall, and that's only the occasions I know about! When are you going to realize you're back home now and drive properly?'

'I'm sorry,' he repeated.

'You should be. Ashamed too, I hope. What kind of example are you setting everyone else, a federal agent caught speeding? Don't you remember what Papa and I told you?'

He nodded. 'I do.'

He listened to her scolding for a further five minutes knowing he deserved it before he rubbed his head, leaning back against the seat. He wondered whether his mother would fall for his trick, and was delighted to notice that she did.

'Sweetheart, aren't you well?' she asked, worried, taking a hand off the wheel to feel his face. 'You're quite hot.'

_Only because I've been real pissed off for the past two hours,_ he thought, allowing his eyes to close.

'Tony, we're nearly home. I'll warm your dinner, and then you can go upstairs to bed,' she said, clearly worried.

He turned startled. 'Mom, isn't anyone there tonight? I'm sure I heard Sandy.'

'Sure, sweetheart, Joey and Maria, Janey with Sandy, and Bobby,' she said.

She drove up and he collected the guitar and backpack, leaving them beside the door near his parents' large vase. 'Uncle Tony,' squealed a young voice, and his four year old niece rushed into his arms, demanding to be picked up. 'Grandpa said the police took your car.'

He nodded gently, ruffling her hair. 'They sure did, princess. What's for dinner?'

He followed her into the dining room, greeting his brothers and sisters and his father, throwing the latter a sheepish look. 'Wow Tony, busted,' Bobby told him, highly amused. 'Don't tell me the officer refused to be intimidated by your card.'

Tony settled at the table, piling his plate with food. 'Guess he wasn't. He was a real unpleasant overweight sonofabitch,' he said with feeling, noting his mother had gone upstairs for something.

'Antonio, that will do,' his father exclaimed, shaking his head. 'None of that explains why you were speeding.'

'He was hungry,' Bobby replied, pulling out a chair beside him. 'Weren't you, Tony?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied, to a chorus of laughter from everyone except his father. 'And I still am.'

His mother entered with his plate and he ate ravenously, listening to the cheerful ribbing from his younger siblings. Presently the talk drifted to other topics and he leaned back with a contented sigh. He was quite full, but there was plenty of food left and he would be up till the early hours chatting. Lazily he piled his plate a second time, carrying it into the kitchen.

'I'm going shopping,' Sandy squealed, climbing onto his father's knees. 'Grandpa, look, I got SO much money!'

'Yes, princess, so you do,' Mr. Almeida muttered tenderly. 'So what are you gonna buy me?'

'A horse,' Sandy said importantly. She laid a wad of notes on the dining room table. 'Is that enough?'

'What's that?' her grandfather cried, shocked. 'Where did you get that from, sweetheart?' Sandy fell silent, while Tony leapt to his feet.

'Princess, I need that, or my boss will string me up from the nearest lamp post,' he told her, seriously. 'Thanks,' he said, collecting it all and pushing it into his pocket. A terrible thought came to him and rose hurriedly. 'I'll be right back.'

His entire family followed him over to the door, watching while he slid his hand inside the old backpack. 'Oh shit,' he breathed, and for once his mother was too startled to tell him off. 'Sandy, princess, I had something else here, some papers - about this size. Do you remember where you put it?' He gazed at her hopefully while she shook her head.

'Sandy, did you take something else?' Janey inquired, picking up her young daughter. 'Where did you put it?'

'Upstairs,' Sandy said, her voice trembling.

'It's okay, honey, just show me where it is,' Tony told her, taking her into his arms. 'You see, it's not really mine either, but I need it on Sunday,' he explained. They followed him upstairs to his old room, where they stepped over the pile of toys she had unpacked from his old toy box. 'Is it in there?'

She shook her head, bending forward to a group of soft toys she had arranged in a neat row. 'The teddies were going on holiday,' she whispered.

'It's okay princess,' he assured her, attempting to push it into his pocket.

'Tony, whose is that?' inquired his father, while Bobby removed it from him, chuckling.

'Tony, wasn't speeding enough? Now you gotta steal a passport and find another place of residence where not every traffic officer knows your name? Wow,' he exclaimed, impressed. 'It's yours.'

'Sweetheart, I don't understand,' began his mother and he groaned aloud.

'Look, I'm going on a short mission, ok.'

'No, it's not okay,' she told him, distressed. 'You told me you were working inside an office. What do you mean, going on a mission? Where are you going?'

'It wasn't my idea,' he began, rubbing his face. 'It's kinda classified.' He gazed at them all, hoping that would satisfy them while knowing deep down that it would not.

'I still need to know where you're going, Antonio,' said his father quietly. 'You might need help, and anyway, I just have to know where you are.'

'Sure' he agreed, touched. 'I got to go over to Mexico for a short while. There's an American who's causing trouble there, I got to go get some evidence on him. It's purely routine. You shouldn't worry. I'll call you whenever I can,' he concluded.

'But why couldn't you just have taken your own passport?' His father stared at him dismayed, holding the brand new passport in his hands.

'Papa, please,' Tony sighed. 'Look, I had a real bad day already.' He gazed at them pleadingly but they held his gaze. 'I gotta pretend to be Mexican,' he said shortly. 'Now I can't say anymore.'

'Antonio, come with me,' said his father, leading him into the deserted living room. He shut the door and motioned Tony towards a couch. 'You're posing as a Mexican with a considerable sum of money, trying to catch an American. I'm not convinced this mission is as safe as you said it was. When this kind of money changes hands there's always trouble.'

Tony nodded, a warm feeling in his heart. 'Papa, I'll be fine. I'm supposed to report to CTU every day, and they'll pull me out should I suspect my cover is blown. Nothing much can go wrong. The worst thing will be the waiting, trying to get the attention of this guy. I'll call you everyday, I promise.'

His father nodded. 'We'll miss you,' he said, and Tony knew that he would, being able to read his father easily.

Saturday passed rapidly, the morning occupied with sorting through a few clothes to fill his backpack. He lifted it to test the weight, remembering he had the guitar to carry as well, and decided it would have to be sufficient. He made himself a sandwich and ate it at the counter, before he cleaned up and settled down with a book. The pouring rain cleared while he read. Presently the bell rang and he got up gladly, grinning at his younger brother.

'Ready, Tony?'

'Yeah,' he replied. 'Did you bring Sandy?'

'Sure,' he said, drawing the child out from behind him. 'Do you think she'd agree to stay home? Let's go.'

They spent a peaceful afternoon at the wet beach, taking it in turns to watch the child. 'Listen, Tony, how are you gonna get to Mexico tomorrow?' Bobby inquired, completing the walls of a large castle he built for the child. 'You still haven't got your car back.'

Tony let out a long sigh. 'You know, I wasn't supposed to take it with me. I'm supposed to be carrying all my stuff in my backpack! I could use a lift.'

'You got one,' Bobby told him cheerfully. 'I still got another two days before I'm supposed to report back to the ship.'

'Thanks Bob,' he said, knowing it would be an entertaining drive with his most boisterous brother. 'Wonder where we'll end up!'


	4. Arrival In Mexico

The drive to Mexico proved entertaining, Tony seizing the chance to catch up with his brother who spent much of his time away in the navy. As the car sped south he recounted several amusing episodes from his basic training, comparing stories with Tony. 'You know, I'm just glad it's over,' he admitted and Tony was forced to agree.

'Yeah, it was rough. Still, Bob, they did manage to teach you to pack your stuff away neatly and be punctual!'

'Right, and look who's talking!'

Tony leaned further back against the seat. 'You forget some of those things after a while. I guess I won't see you for a year or so.' Bobby nodded sadly and Tony squeezed his shoulder. 'Take care, ok. Who knows, I might even manage to get a week off and I'll fly over.'

'Would you?' They grinned at each other.

'Yeah.'

Hours later Tony stood by the side of the road, his guitar case beside him and his backpack on his shoulders, watching his brother drive away. He chewed his lip in silence, hoping they would indeed meet again the following year. Once the car disappeared from view with his US passport inside it, he lifted his guitar and began the long walk into town. He had deemed it too risky to ask Bobby to drive him as far as the center, though he began to wish he had two hours later as he struggled over the uneven surface. The sun was setting by the time he arrived at the cheap motel Jack had ordered him to use.

Tony pushed the door open and stepped into a well lit room with one half serving as a check-in desk, the other as a dining room. He laid his guitar on the ground and asked for a room, paying a cheerful middle aged woman. Exhausted, he climbed two floors and unlocked his room, laying the guitar down thankfully. His room was cheerful enough; a single bed with a blue quilt occupied the middle, surrounded by a table with a chair, a small cabinet and TV.

Tony went downstairs and bought himself a pizza, taking it back with him. He ate it from its box on his bed, watching the news. Once he finished he fished through the backpack's contents, finding a towel and clean clothes. He locked his room and walked to the end of the corridor, glad to find the shower unoccupied. He turned the hot water on, emerging only when the banging on the door proved irritating.

An annoyed Mexican met him once he stepped out. 'Hey, you, didn't you hear me banging?' he demanded, outraged.

_I sure did, you spoilt the last ten minutes!_ Tony thought, apologizing to him instead. His mission was to lie low and contact Christianson, not to get involved in a scuffle in a cheap motel. Remembering his mission, he returned to his room and collected his phone card, calling CTU from a phone box located conveniently close to the motel. It was answered on the second ring by Jack himself. Tony felt relieved; he had little desire to call his boss at home.

'Hi Jack, I've arrived,' he said, leaning against the booth.

'Tony, why didn't you call yesterday?' Jack demanded, his tone slightly annoyed. 'I just discovered you had your license revoked!'

Tony rubbed his face, wishing that officer to the deepest realms of hell. 'Yeah, I was kinda speeding a little. Would you be able to take care of that for me, Jack?'

'I'll be able to get your car out of the pound, if you'll send someone to collect it,' Jack told him. 'As for your license, I've granted you an extraordinary one, until such time as you get yours back. Tony, this is a one off, do you understand?'

'Yeah,' he answered. 'Sorry Jack, it won't happen again.'

'Anyway, you're in place,' Jack told him. 'Remember your cover. You're a Mexican, right? What are you planning on doing tonight?'

Tony stared at the phone in surprise. _You don't have to spoon feed me Jack; I'm not an idiot,_ he thought, annoyed. 'I'll go to bed and watch TV. I had a long walk, you know!'

'Fine,' Jack agreed. 'And what were you planning on watching? Remember, that's the motel where Christianson collects his customers from, the walls have ears.'

Tony rubbed his face irritated. Did the guy have a right to inquire into every smallest detail of his evening? 'It's Sunday, Jack. I'm gonna watch Star Trek, ok. Look, I'll call you tomorrow…'

'Tony, wait,' Jack ordered and he paused, wondering what else was coming. 'That's not the best play. Pick some Spanish series, watch that and then play your guitar a bit. Establish your cover. And talk to the rest of the guests at breakfast.'

'Yeah, Jack,' he answered, hanging up in annoyance. He rubbed his face, resigned to missing his favorite show. Slowly he picked the receiver up again, dialing his parents. 'Hi, mom,' he greeted, missing her already. He spent the next half hour chatting to her, answering questions about the journey, his dinner, his room and his health, begging her to tape his favorite programs. 'Mom, I got to go,' he told her, noting how little credit remained on the card. He would have to buy one the following day; it would never do to get cut off in the middle of a CTU briefing.

It was dark outside as he returned to the motel and climbed the stairs, unlocking his door. He switched on the light and lay down, idly flicking through a few channels. A police car chased a suspect on a motorbike, shooting above the rider in order to get him to stop. 'Sonofabitch,' Tony muttered in English, chewing his lip a second later. _Watch it Almeida, you'll blow your cover. Better pick a real boring movie, something mom might appreciate. _He flicked through the channels again, choosing a romance. A woman was wheeled into a hospital, followed by an anxious looking man, begging her to marry him. Tony shook his head in disbelief. _How could ANYONE believe this kinda crap? This NEVER happens!_ Still, he was hardly likely to get excited about anything in it, so he left it on, his mind returning to Anita, his girlfriend of just over six months, who had left him a few weeks ago. He wondered where she was, and whether she was happy with Kevin. _What do you expect, Almeida? You're a real boring guy, you couldn't even discuss your day at work, and she wasn't the type to be interested in your military experiences. Let's face it; Kevin was a lot more fun! And you're alone again; coz no woman in her right mind would want you!_ He sighed aloud, raising his head to stare at the TV screen, where a doctor was handing two babies to the anxious looking man. He swallowed, enviously.

Hours later he awoke, his neck stiff against the headboard, a different program on the TV. A group of women were singing, a long haired youth drummed in the background. Tony glanced at his watch, startled to find he had slept for nearly three hours. He decided against obeying Jack's instructions about his guitar, curling up instead, his blanket over his face.

A commotion directly outside his window woke him in the morning. A shriek ripped though the air and a woman screamed aloud, the street echoing. 'You sit down on that pavement one more time, I'll smack you.' A child howled in indignation, and a man's voice joined the argument. 'Lucia, the bag. Tomas left his bag.' A young voice yelled about not going to school that day, both adults screamed back. Tony rubbed his eyes, wondering where in the world he could be.

He sat up with a start, remembering that he was supposed to meet a few of the motel guests and discover which of them would be on the truck to the US that evening. He threw on a t-shirt and jeans, ran a comb through his hair, splashed his face and rushed downstairs, silently thanking the unknown child for waking him. He could only imagine Jack's comments if he would have missed breakfast, as he undoubtedly would have, had the child decided to go to school without protest.

Every table was occupied, most of the guests Mexicans. Tony searched the room, recalling his CTU training and picked a table with a couple and a young child. They looked stressed and the toddler fretted, his hands in his plate. Tony picked a few toasts from the buffet, a couple of pieces of fruit and poured himself a coffee, moving to their table. 'Mind if I sit here?' he inquired, placing his tray beside the child.

They shook their heads and he settled, taking a sip of coffee. It was a lot stronger than what he normally drank at home. Beside him the child began to whine, pushing his plate away. The man told him off sternly, ordering him to finish his breakfast. Tony took a piece of orange, noting a small hand taking the next section.

'Gabriel, what are you doing? I'm sorry,' the woman apologized.

Tony shook his head, handing the rest of the orange to the toddler. 'He likes it. My little niece would do the same. He's real cute.'

The woman smiled at him and he congratulated himself on breaking the ice. Nobody had mentioned it during basic training, but he had seen his mother's smile whenever anyone praised one of his younger brothers or sisters often enough to know that every woman would relax with that. 'He's good usually,' she began, an eye on the child. 'Just - we're far from home and we left his favorite pacifier there, and he won't take another…'

Tony nodded, remembering his father rushing to the drugstore around midnight to purchase one, after they had exhausted their patience listening to his youngest brother's howls. 'I know what that's like. You'll have to get him another identical one.'

The man groaned aloud. 'We would, if there'd BE another identical one round here.'

Tony pricked his ears. 'There's lots of stuff in Mexico,' he said, chewing a piece of toast. 'Where are you from?'

'Honduras. Eat your breakfast, Gabriel. You're from here?'

Tony nodded, continuing his breakfast. 'Sí.'

'What do you do?' questioned the man.

Tony glanced at him, noting his hands. 'I'm a mechanic, fix trucks mainly. How about you.'

'An electrician,' the man told him. 'You work here?'

Tony glanced furtively round the room, lowering his voice, noting with approval how both leaned closer into the table. 'I did. Thing is, prices keep rising and my wages just don't, and with the new baby…There's more money to be made elsewhere.' The last sentence was a whisper.

It had the desired effect. 'Telling me,' the man answered. 'We're so close to it, too. You're not thinking of going across?'

Tony glanced round again, noting they followed his every movement. 'I thought I might try. I got nothing to lose…What can they do, if they catch me? Send me back! I'll just go again! We got to live, somehow!'

'What about your new baby?' whispered the woman. 'Is your wife going to join you?'

Tony rubbed his face, ashamed. 'Right now she's a little occupied with the kids and the baby is very young. She's home with her parents. Once I get a job and find a place, I'll get them over, somehow…'

He leaned back, his face burning. _I can't do this, Jack! I'm no good at lying._ A picture came into his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing his father's hand on his elbow. _"Antonio, you lied to me! I can accept everything else, but not that! How can I trust you?" He had squirmed, attempting to think up an excuse. "Please, Papa, I had to. You'd never have let me go, and they would've laughed at me. I'll never do it again, I promise." He had steeled himself for a sound spanking but it hadn't followed, his father regarding him sadly instead. "Well Tony, I guess you'll grow up like your friends. What else can I say?" He had spent the most miserable day of his young life at school, unable to concentrate on anything, longing to get home. "Papa, please don't be cross anymore," he had begged at bedtime. "I don't wanna be like them, I wanna be like you. I'll never do it again, honest." His father looked at him for a while in silence, his feature softening. "Ok. Just remember this, Tony. Honest people don't need to lie, ever."_

The couple misunderstood his distress. 'Hey, relax,' the man told him. 'It's better this way, really. You don't want to drag a wife and kids along if you got nowhere to stay. She'll be ok.'

'She's with her mother, she'll be fine,' the woman told him kindly. 'You must miss her already,' she said, a strange longing in her voice.

Tony nodded, unable to speak.

'Did you manage to pay for your trip? It's awful, if you owe money,' the man said, sighing heavily.

Tony rubbed his face, aware how vital CTU would find his information. 'No,' he said, sadly. 'I only got 5000 US.'

The man shook his head. 'You'll owe 10 000 US dollars,' he said. 'At 30 percent interest, how do you ever hope to repay that? I mean, it's not as though they'll just forget about it! Surely you don't hope to disappear.'

_30 percent_ Tony thought, shocked. _That's robbery!_ He stared unhappily at the couple. 'I got no other choice. There's no way I can save more. I'll just have to work real hard once I arrive.'

'You're hoping to pick up a second job, get some extra cash,' the man guessed. 'A job no one else will know about. Don't even think of trying that, my cousin got killed that way.'

'He got killed,' Tony repeated. 'By the guys he owed? You're real sure about that?'

They both nodded. 'Sí, we're sure. Everyone knows.'

'Everyone except the LAPD,' Tony thought, drinking more coffee. He made a mental note to call them and ask whether they had discovered any unidentified bodies that matched the description.

'Now I don't think anyone will try that for a while,' the man continued, finishing his breakfast. 'Of course it was better they killed him, really.' The woman agreed, wiping her eyes.

'Better than what?' Tony exclaimed, startled.

'Better than coming after Elena, his wife, or the kids. They know the whole family, you know.'

Tony frowned, deep in thought. 'You mean they get an address?' he inquired, growing concerned. The whole operation was turning out far more dangerous than he had anticipated, it was essential he maintain his cover.

'They won't take you without your family's documents as some insurance, they'll know you'd run otherwise,' the woman said. 'You never done this before, did you?'

'No,' he admitted, sticking out his hand. 'I'm Tony,' he said, listening to their names. 'I'd be real glad if you'd introduce me to your contact. I really must get to the US and earn some money soon. We already lost our apartment, when the rent was raised…'

He gave them a pleading look and the man nodded. 'If you're sure you want to go, under the circumstances. You'll end up working three jobs, for years.'

'I know,' he said, sighing aloud. That last sigh had come from his heart, he realized, shocked. _Three jobs indeed, Almeida! When would you ever have time for the beach, or the TV?_

'Will you be here around 6:00 this evening? We're being picked up then,' the man told him and he nodded, his heart beating faster.

'Think he'll take me along too?' he asked eagerly.

They both shook their heads. 'No. The truck will be full. He'll need to be paid and he'll tell you when to return.'

Tony allowed a frustrated frown to appear. He chewed his lip, amazed to find himself reluctant to part with his money in advance. 'How do I know he'll really take me, if I pay now?' he demanded.

'You don't,' the woman said. 'But he usually does. Almost everyone owes him, you see, he's going to keep coming for his money. He's got no reason to leave you behind.'

'Aha,' Tony said, nodding thoughtfully. 'I guess you're right. Look, I'll be here at 6:00.'

They promised to introduce him and left him to finish the rest of his breakfast alone. Tony ate slowly, mulling over their words. Apparently the guy demanded payment in advance then took people across after listing their remaining relatives and used them to blackmail the aliens into paying an exorbitant interest on whatever they owed. He had resorted to murder occasionally. Suddenly he didn't resent his assignment. Christianson and his fellow smugglers needed to be stopped and he would do everything in his power to make certain it happened.

The sun shone outside, warming the entire square. Tony walked aimlessly down the street, glancing into shop windows. There was no sign of the couple he had spoken to at breakfast. Glancing round a final time, he entered a phone booth and called CTU, being put through to Nina as Jack was out on a case. He told her what he had discovered so far and let her know he would make contact in the evening. She praised him for his success and he sighed.

'What's wrong, Tony? You didn't arouse suspicion, did you?'

'No,' he told her, his fingers tightening round the receiver. 'I just lied to some real decent people,' he admitted.

'Don't tell me you never done that before!' she exclaimed. 'Tony, you're working. It's part of the job.'

'Yeah,' he muttered, staring down the street to make certain no one from the motel walked past.

'Hey, relax. You're doing great and you're not hurting anyone at all. Is there anything you'll need?' she asked.

'I'll need a coupla birth certificates, one from this year, for some kids I invented,' he said, rubbing his face vigorously. 'I'll need proof of address, I don't even know what really, maybe some bills? Remember, I said we were staying with my wife's parents. I don't know…'

'Relax, Tony, I'll take care of it,' she assured him. 'I'll get some doctor's bills for the delivery of the baby to that address. You just make certain you'll be there at 6:00. Do you need anything else?'

'No,' he said, wishing he could see her face. 'I'll let you know what happened later on tonight.'

'We'll be waiting,' Nina said. 'Good luck, Tony.'

He hung up, pushing open the door of the phone booth, returning to his role as Tony Almeida, Mexican would-be emigrant.


	5. Clarissa

The day dragged on, every minute stretching to infinity. Tony walked around the town center, and bought lunch, eating in a cheap café. He returned to the motel shortly afterwards for a rest, lying on top of his bed. _I don't even know what you'd say to me, mom, if you knew exactly what I was doing!_ He rubbed his face, attempting to clear his conscience. _I won't hurt anyone. They're only after Christianson and his partners. That's all I got to do, find evidence and frame him, and possibly help put a stop to this kinda trafficking_.

He rubbed his face vigorously. _And what would you say, mom? Just what would say if you heard all the lies I told today? Wife and kids!_ He groaned aloud, remembering the dozens of times she had given him gentle hints about finding the right girl and settling down. _If she ever heard about this… Well she won't. It's classified,_ he thought thankfully.

To his surprise he fell asleep for a couple of hours, spending the remaining time playing his guitar. Jack had nothing to complain about, he thought with a sigh, laying it down on the bed. At exactly ten to six he wandered down the stairs, his eyes raking the dining room. The family saw him and waved to him, and he joined them, relieved.

'Tony, sit down. He'll be here soon.'

He nodded, watching the crowd in the room. 'Who are all these people? Don't tell me they're all going in the truck tonight!'

The woman nodded. 'Sí.'

Tony shook his head disapprovingly. 'It'll be a little crowded,' he observed.

'Shush, that's him now,' the man told him unnecessarily, for he had noticed the moment the door was opened and a brown haired man clad in a short sleeved shirt and faded jeans entered. The entire room stirred, collecting their belongings.

'Alright people, sit down. SIT DOWN,' ordered Christianson harshly, holding up a hand. 'We're going to step into the truck one at a time.' He pulled out a list, calling out names. Tony remained with the young family, the room rapidly emptying. Eventually they left too, wishing him luck. 'You, what are you doing here? Who are you?' demanded Christianson, pulling a gun on him.

'Hey, relax,' Tony told him, holding his hands up. 'I got some money; I need to come with you tonight.'

Christianson relaxed fractionally, replacing his gun. 'Lock the truck,' he ordered his associate, a rough thug sporting an untidy beard. 'How much have you got?' he demanded, his eyes watching him suspiciously.

_That man is as sharp as a razor blade_, Tony noted, reminding himself to keep calm. 'Five thousand US,' he answered.

'That's not much,' observed Christianson, coldly. 'What do you do? You don't look like a peasant.'

_Gee thanks_, Tony thought sarcastically. 'I'm a mechanic,' he answered, the lie coming easier the second time. 'I fix trucks!'

Christianson looked interested for the first time. 'Hhm. I'll need evidence of your address and remaining family members, mechanic! Just so you repay me all you'll owe,' he said.

'Fair enough,' he agreed, hating the man's heavily accented Spanish. 'What kind of things are we talking about?' He already knew, but he needed to establish his cover with Christianson, so he listened carefully. 'Ok, I'll get those. When can you take me?'

Christianson got up. 'Next Sunday. I'll need to be paid now.' He held out his hand and Tony pulled 5000 dollars from his pocket, handing it over.

'Sunday is far away,' he observed. 'What am I supposed to do till then? I don't know anyone round here, and I haven't got much money.'

The man gave him a cold look. 'That's your problem, mechanic! Sleep in the park, or find an empty cardboard box! That's what you people live in, anyway, isn't it? Or find some work.' He turned and left, leaving Tony struggling against his rage.

'Cardboard box,' he muttered, watching the truck drive down the street. 'Arrogant sonofabitch! You'll be lucky to get that much, once I finish with you!' He walked around a few minutes, calming down, before he returned to the distant phone booth and called CTU.

'Hi Tony,' Jack greeted, sounding tired. 'Have you made contact?'

'Yeah,' he answered, shortly.

'And will he take you?'

'Aha,' Tony agreed, rubbing his face.

'Dammit Tony, talk to me. I want a full report,' Jack snapped.

Tony straightened, sensing his boss's exhaustion. 'There's not much to say, Jack. I went downstairs at 6:00, like I was told and I met a roomful of people all waiting for him. He read out their names and when the room got empty he pulled a gun on me and wanted to know who I was. I said I'm a mechanic and I fix trucks and he looked interested and quite honestly, his truck did look a little old.' He paused, drawing a deep breath. 'Sure hope he doesn't need me to service it,' he mumbled.

Jack snorted aloud. 'Dammit, Tony, why couldn't you have chosen a different cover? He probably does, you know. Tell me you know something about trucks!'

Tony narrowed his eyes, chewing his lips. 'I never saw a single truck engine in my life,' he admitted. 'But,' he continued, hearing another groan, 'I did fix military transports a coupla times in the desert. And I know how to keep my father's 4 wheel drive going.'

Jack let out a long breath. 'It'll have to do,' he said, after a silence. 'Tony, it would be the perfect cover for you, if you manage to pull it off. He'll keep you round to fix the truck and you'll eventually get to meet all his cronies. Try and make it work, ok?'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed, glancing at the remaining credits. 'I'll do my best. Listen, how long is this mission gonna last? You said a coupla days…'

'It'll last as long as it lasts,' Jack answered, irritated. 'You're beginning to see just what is involved in this operation.'

'Fine. Listen, I got six days to kill. I had to maintain my story, a cash strapped guy from central Mexico, some small town he's never heard of. I got to lie low for a while now and I was wondering whether I could come home? Just for the six days?'

A silence greeted his request. 'Tony, are you still there. I'm afraid it's outa the question,' Jack told him, sympathetically. 'I know LA is a large city and the chances of you two running into each other is next to nothing, but we can't take that chance right now. Leave the town and lie low somewhere, you got money.'

'Ok,' he agreed, another thought entering his head, which drew a smile to his lips. 'Jack, I got a grandfather here, about 200 miles further south. You got any objections if I visit him?' He held his breath, eagerly. _I'm going anyway, whatever you say,_ he decided.

'Good idea,' Jack agreed. 'Just make sure no one from there knows this guy.'

'I'll just say I got a week off and I came to visit,' Tony assured him. 'I do a lot, no one would be suspicious. Thanks, Jack.'

'You got it,' Jack agreed. 'Listen, Tony, I'll expect you to call everyday, to make certain you're ok.'

Tony hung up, promising he would call and retraced his steps to the motel more cheerfully. He watched a little TV before going out to buy a cheap meal, returning to spend the rest of the night in his room.

At dawn he checked out, carrying his things over to the bus station. The inconvenience of public transport became apparent remarkably soon. No bus went anywhere near the small settlement, forcing him to purchase a ticket to the nearest town instead. Tony spent the next four hours squashed into a seat, a fat woman blocking his exit, his guitar jammed beside his feet. The bus stopped at several settlements along the way, people getting on and off. Each time it paused he hoped the woman would disembark, disappointed repeatedly. Once the bus reached Hermosillo he excused himself and climbed off, rubbing his cramped legs. A walk of several hours faced him if he didn't wish to spend the rest of the day in the city. Longing to see his grandfather, he set off, walking all afternoon before he reached the tiny settlement. Exhausted, he laid his guitar on the ground, cursing Chappelle yet again for having insisted he take it and bought a bottle of lemonade, drinking it outside the shop.

'Tony, buenas noches,' exclaimed a female voice and a young woman settled beside him, grinning broadly. 'I didn't know you were coming.'

'I didn't either,' he told her, smiling back at his young cousin. 'How are you, Rosa?'

'Fine. You look exhausted.'

'I had to walk,' he told her, mopping his face.

'No. Where's your car?' she cried, shocked.

Tony covered his mouth, turning red. 'Traffic police impounded it back home.'

Rosa laughed aloud and he joined in, shaking his head. 'It's not that funny, you know! I was left stranded and I had to call my parents.'

'Oh no,' she cried, highly amused. 'Tony, they would've been mad! Would you like a lift?'

He nodded. 'Sí, or I'll end up getting arrested for loitering, sleeping on this bench!' He followed her to her car and laid his things on the back seat. 'How's Felipe and the baby?'

'They're fine.' She dropped him fifteen minutes later at the edge of his grandfather's farm.

'Thanks, Rosa, I really needed that lift,' he told her gratefully.

'You're welcome. I'll never forget how you owned up to breaking that window. I was so scared…'

Tony pulled his guitar out, shaking his head. 'You started crying.' He lifted his backpack, giving her a hug.

'But it wasn't you, and you got thrashed.' She glanced at him unhappily and he grinned at her.

'Hey, forget it. You sure you can't come in now?' She shook her head, promising to see him again soon and he walked along the driveway, his mind deep in memories. Sometimes he needed to return to the complete peace he always felt with his grandfather, when the events he dealt with daily at CTU threatened to overwhelm him. Sighing contentedly he pushed open the door, aware his grandfather never locked it and laid his things on the ground.

'Abuelo,' he called, hearing hurried footsteps.

'Tony!' his grandfather cried, hugging him tightly. 'I didn't know you were coming. Have you got some time off?'

Tony followed him back to the kitchen, settling at a table. He explained he was on a mission. His grandfather watched him carefully, shaking his head.

'I don't like the thought of you chasing after crooks, Antonio. If they discover you, they'll shoot you.'

He nodded, getting up to collect a couple of plates. 'Sí, but they won't discover me. My cover's real plausible. Anyway, I'm hardly going to allow someone to shoot me!'

'Antonio, you haven't got your gun,' his grandfather told him, filling his plate. 'The moment you suspect they're onto you, get out. Forget your mission. Promise me that, ok?' He looked steadily at Tony, who nodded.

'I'll run for it, alright, before I return to arrest him! Anyway, I got six days here. Who knows, I might not even feel like going back,' he joked, laying his fork down. 'Gracias abuelo, that was great.'

His grandfather looked at him seriously. 'You know you're always welcome to stay, Tony, as long as you like. If you don't want to go back, you don't have to.'

Tony chuckled, carrying the plates to the sink. 'Abuelo, I got a real strict coupla bosses. If I even thought of such a thing I'd end up in jail and they'd throw away the key! Besides, this guy I'm after is a real bastard, he threatens women and kids. I want to get him!'

His grandfather nodded, seeing how tired he looked. 'Why don't you go to bed early tonight? There's plenty of work waiting for you tomorrow if you wish to help.'

Tony nodded, laying the last knife in the drier. 'Of course I'll help. Oh wait, can I use the phone? I got to call my boss everyday.'

He settled in the dark lounge, remembering his grandmother reading stories every night to his younger brothers and sisters. A lump came to his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, enjoying the peace before he called CTU. He gave Jack his location and assured him he was fine.

'Tony, enjoy this time, ok. I need your full concentration once you contact Christianson again.'

'You got it,' he promised, his eyes resting on a photograph of his entire family. 'Jack, I'll get some sleep now.'

'Good idea. What are you planning on doing tomorrow?' Jack asked, sounding fully alert. He could tell it had been an easy day at CTU.

'Tomorrow I'm gonna do some 'real' work,' he said, amused. 'Potato field needs weeding! Goodnight, Jack.'

The week passed rapidly, Tony working hard with his grandfather, joined by various relatives as the days wore on. He called his parents a few times; assuring them he was fine and sat up late with his grandfather in the evenings, reminiscing over glasses of homemade wine. He felt deep regret when he climbed into the car on his way back to the town where he was supposed to meet Christianson.

His grandfather drove him to the edge of the town, hugging him fiercely. 'Take care, Antonio.' He nodded, pulling on his backpack. 'And Tony, once this is over you could find a pretty girl, you know. It's time now!'

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. 'You sound like mom,' he complained, grinning. 'Hey, if anybody ever wants to look at me…'

'They will m'ijo, probably sooner than you think!' His grandfather waved and drove away, leaving him speechless.

Tony chuckled and shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn. So far he had endured gentle hints, now the questioning had begun. He wondered when they would stop asking. _Not for the next coupla decades,_ he decided ruefully, walking the final mile to the motel.

He pushed open the door, noting the crowd in the dining room. If anything, it was even more crammed than the previous week. Every seat was occupied, several men sitting on the floor. He moved to the back of the room and leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on his possessions. His heart beat rapidly as 6:00 o'clock approached. Whatever would happen if his cover were blown? He wasn't really trained in this at all; he had been a sniper, used to dealing with situations head on. On the sole occasion he had been captured they hadn't dealt terribly kindly with him. Tony rubbed his face, pushing the memory away, the way he always did when it surfaced.

A quiet sound distracted him and he glanced down, finding his guitar case open. A small hand plucked a string repeatedly, singing a nursery rhyme. Tony watched the young girl for a few minutes, deciding she was about his niece's age.

'Blanca,' exclaimed a woman in her mid twenties, closing the case and depositing the child on her knees. 'I am sorry,' she apologized.

Tony shook his head, noting her long dark braided hair that hung all the way to her waist, thick as a rope. 'It's ok. She's very pretty.'

The child gave him a shy smile and nodded and the woman smiled too, shaking her head. 'Don't tell her that! She'll get vain.'

The door opened before he could think of anything else to say and Christianson entered. Tony took a deep breath, hearing him order everyone to sit down in silence and move outside when their name was called. 'Alright, we got a slight problem tonight,' he told the assembled crowd. 'Border guards are too active. I'm gonna stash you someplace safe and come collect you all when they relax.' A murmur went up from the anxious group. 'Silence! I said I'll come back, right! Now start moving on the truck.'

Tony lifted the child up; earning him a grateful smile from the woman, before lifting up his things - longing to strangle Chappelle for insisting he take his guitar as there was virtually no standing room. 'You must be very fond of it,' the woman told him, nodding her head at the instrument he attempted to squash between his legs and the side of the truck.

'I am. It was a present from my grandfather,' he said truthfully. Somehow he felt reluctant to lie to her. 'Here, sit down,' he suggested, pushing people a few inches further and clearing space for her.

'Gracias,' she told him gratefully, pulling the child on her knees. 'Señor?'

'My name's Tony,' he told her, feeling at ease in her company. He barely noticed the truck starting as she gave him another smile.

'I'm Clarissa.'

The truck moved faster and the journey became uncomfortable. People attempted to squeeze closer together to avoid falling as it bounced over potholes. The child began to cry, clutching her mother, terrified in the gloom.

'Hey, are you a little hungry?' Tony asked gently, pulling a packet of chocolate from his pocket. She nodded, sniffing and he broke her a piece, handing another piece to Clarissa.

'Gracias, Tony. This is a terrible journey,' she groaned as the truck hit an extra large hole, causing them to get thrown around.

'It won't take long,' he assured her. 'He said he can't take us across tonight, remember, he'll put us somewhere. It should be quite close.' As the nightmare trip continued he pulled Blanca on his knees, shielding her from the constant bumping she received. _Dammit, this is no way for a child to travel!_ he fumed, worried about her_. It's dark, it's real bumpy and the air's turning stale._

The air was indeed turning stale and he noted the child's increasing lethargy in concern. Tony leaned towards Clarissa who appeared lost in her own misery, shaking her shoulder. 'Clarissa, Blanca's gonna need a little more air. I'm gonna carry her over to the door,' he told her speaking loudly to be heard over the rattling of the truck. She nodded. He forced his way through the huddled mass of people, physically clearing a gap beside the door, noting a slight breeze in relief. It was not much but it would keep her alive.

Tony sat her on his knees, unable to help Clarissa join them as he feared she would be trampled if he left her, resolving to add overcrowding to the long list of crimes he meant to charge Christianson with.


	6. In The Truck

Tony lifted Blanca into his arms as the truck drew to a stop, climbing down slowly. He set her on the side beside a wheel, waiting until he saw Clarissa. Once they were reunited he climbed back aboard, returning for his guitar. It was cool out in the open, and he pulled his backpack open, selecting a worn sweater. When he returned to the child, he noted she stood beside her mother, wearing a coat.

'Where did you go, Tony?' she asked, fretfully. 'You said you're coming with us.'

'I am,' he replied, setting down the guitar. 'I just went back for this.'

'Alright, everyone, listen,' Christianson began, loudly. 'See this shed? You're to stay here until I come for you. You're NOT to go to town for any reason at all, otherwise I won't be returning for anyone of you. Is that clear?'

The crowd murmured, uneasy in the darkness.

'You want us to stay in that shed?' Tony demanded, unable to keep silent. 'Where are we supposed to sleep? What do we eat?'

'That's your problem,' snapped Christianson, glaring at him. 'You should've brought a little food with you. I'll be back later tomorrow.' He returned to the truck, starting it up. The crowd moved in the direction of the shed.

'Come on,' Tony said, bending down to lift the child onto his backpack. 'Let's get a spot.'

'Tony, you mustn't complain,' Clarissa told him, worried for him as she followed. 'He might just leave you here if you annoy him.'

_She's right, Almeida. Whatever were you thinking of?_ he chided himself. _You should recall the lessons you learned at boot camp, sit down, pay attention and above all else, keep your opinions to yourself! _He nodded, following her into a wooden shed. In the surrounding darkness he was slightly disorientated, unable to picture his location.

Clarissa pulled a blanket out of her backpack, wrapping herself and Blanca into it. 'Go to sleep, baby,' she soothed, stroking the child's curls.

'I'm hungry,' she complained, rubbing her eyes.

'Blanca, listen to me. If I feed you now, there'll be nothing for tomorrow,' Clarissa told her unhappily. 'Just try to sleep and it will be morning real soon.'

Tony searched his backpack, handing them a sandwich each. His grandfather had packed a dozen for him that morning and insisted he take them with him, refusing to listen to his protests. He made a mental note to call him as soon as was able and thank him.

'Gracias Tony, Blanca needs to eat, but I can't take your food,' Clarissa protested, her eyes expressing deep reluctance to part with the meal. 'It's yours and you don't even know us.'

'I got plenty' he assured her, biting into his sandwich. 'They won't last long.'

'You can take it, mama, we know Tony,' Blanca told her, smiling at him.

The night was long and uncomfortable. Tony had slept in worse places during his service with the Marines, but never with such a vast number of civilians around him, muttering in the dark, moving restlessly. He lay on the concrete floor, his backpack under his head, growing cold and stiff. Unable to take it any longer, he left the shed as the first rays lit the sky, emerging into a deserted field.

The ground was damp under his feet as he patrolled his surroundings, searching for a clue as to their location. He stood in a dry field enclosed by a wire fence; the solitary shed and a rough track the only visible landmarks. Tony followed the track, noting the straight tire lines. It appeared Christianson had used this area to stash his human cargo before. Five minutes later he reached the wire, arriving at a locked gate. Tony frowned thoughtfully, peering at the narrow country lane that met the horizon, arrow straight. Nothing existed to give him a clue as to his whereabouts. 'Guess I won't be calling you this morning, Jack,' he observed, watching a few birds fly against the rising sun. _People will be up soon and they'll be getting hungry and thirsty_. He turned, following the wire round, his eyes searching for a well, disappointed to find the entire field bare. No tap was to be found anywhere outside the shed. Tony shook his head, not expecting them to be collected until after sunset. _Get ready for a real long day, Almeida!_

'Buenas dias,' he greeted Clarissa and Blanca, surprised to feel an added sense of responsibility towards them. 'You ready for breakfast?'

Clarissa nodded, pushing her braid to the side. Tony handed them another sandwich each, settling on his backpack.

'I'm thirsty,' the child complained, chewing slowly.

He got up, pulling out a bottle of water. 'I'll give you a bit, princess, ok, but not too much, coz we'll need this for the entire day.' He poured out a little into a plastic cup, noting Clarissa's worried expression.

'Tony, you were outside. Just exactly what do we have round here?'

'Why don't you go see if you can find me some pretty stones,' Tony told the toddler, watching her run outside. 'Not a thing,' he answered, noting her worry. 'It's okay, Clarissa, we'll be fine. I got two bottles of water altogether and a few more sandwiches. You mustn't worry, he'll be back tonight.'

Clarissa nodded, wrapping up the remaining half of her sandwich. 'And if he's not? I notice you didn't drink anything.'

Tony pushed the second bottle further into his clothes, zipping the backpack. 'There are a lot of us here, Clarissa. I don't notice many people drinking. I'll keep this a little longer, just in case.'

She took only a mouthful of water he offered, watching him return his bottle. 'You spent a long time in the army,' she observed.

'What makes you think so?' Tony inquired, finishing his sandwich.

Clarissa stood up, folding the blanket. 'You're the only one who's checked the perimeter, noticed the lack of water and put some aside. You're thinking about rationing it,' she told him. 'You're some kind of officer, aren't you? Why are you here, Tony?'

Tony pulled the impassive mask he had acquired during boot camp on his face. 'I spent a little time in the army, years back,' he admitted, 'but I was never an officer,' he lied, gazing through the open door. 'I just grew up in a real arid area, so I know you gotta save water.'

'You're smart, too,' she said softly, her eyes searching his face. 'I think you're running from somewhere. It's okay, we've all got our secrets. I have no right to pry.'

'Let's go find Blanca,' he suggested, changing the subject, leading her outside. 'Where's her father?' he asked casually, nodding his head in the child's direction. Silence greeted his question and he looked at her curiously. 'It's okay, Clarissa. You've got your own secrets, I'll respect that.'

'No, you can ask,' she told him in a rush. 'He just left, two years back. There were other women, too many others. I stayed with my brother, he supported us.'

'And he moved to the US?' Tony guessed.

'Sí, last year. Now he's saved up enough for us to join him.'

Tony held out his palm and the child deposited a handful of dusty stones into them. 'Gracias, they're lovely.' She giggled, taking a few back and rushed off.

'You know, the only thing I really believe about your story is that you got kids,' Clarissa told him, sighing heavily.

Tony threw her a questioning look, half wishing he could have the previous week back and invent a different cover story. It had hardly mattered, back then. _Watch out, Almeida. Anita left you last month, you're still hurting. You WILL NOT allow that to cloud your judgment. You're here for one reason only: to find evidence on Christianson and find his buddies and you'll do that! Clarissa and Blanca are real vulnerable right now, so by all means keep an eye on them, but that's all! _He leaned against the shed, brushing a few cobwebs out of his hair. 'How can you tell?' he asked, casually.

'You're real good with Blanca. The nice guys are all married,' she told him wistfully.

A warm feeling rushed through his heart, soothing a little of his pain. He rubbed his face, struggling to think of a suitable reply and coming up blank.

'It's okay,' Clarissa sighed. 'It's just my luck, that's all. I do hope Christianson comes back for us tonight. How long do you expect we can last if he doesn't?'

'Oh, he'll be back alright. He wants to milk us all,' Tony assured her. 'But it's okay, we're not locked in. We can always get to the nearest town and buy stuff.'

The day dragged by excruciatingly slowly, reminding him of the hours his snipers had remained concealed waiting for their targets to emerge. Waiting with the group of civilians was a different matter altogether. People wandered around aimlessly, cursing, eating their food and grumbling about the lack of water. Tony was forced to move to the other side of the field in order to avoid yelling at them_. Take it easy, Almeida, they're civilians and they're all real nervous right now._

Towards evening the truck returned. A cheer went up as they saw the cloud of dust it generated and everyone rushed for their bags, shoving each other. Tony grabbed Blanca and gave her to her mother, ordering them to remain outside, while he returned to the shed to collect their things. He helped Clarissa to climb into the back of the truck, handing their bags up, climbing in himself with the child last. It would be a journey of several hours and he had placed them in the most advantageous position, near the crack where a little air could be felt.

If possible, the journey proved worse than the previous one. Fully prepared for the ordeal, Tony handed a little water to the child at regular intervals, holding her in his arms throughout the night. 'Are we nearly there, Tony?' she asked fretfully half an hour into the journey and he shook his head.

'Not quite. Listen, princess, this is gonna be an awful night, but your mom and I are with you. You're a big girl now, aren't you?'

'Sí.'

'So you'll be fine. If you feel sick, tell me.' He attempted to settle her more comfortably against his chest. 'Would you like to hear a story?' he offered, aware of the need to keep her alert. He would have less trouble monitoring her if she remained awake.

'Si. Tell me about your children.'

Tony squirmed, glad of the gloom which hid his burning face. 'Why don't I tell you a little about when I was young?' he suggested, amusing them with tales of his early childhood. The child fell asleep around midnight and he moved carefully, resting his back against his guitar, freeing a hand to lay it on her chest.

'Tony, you're incredible,' Clarissa told him, leaning against him. 'I never met a guy like you. You're worried about her, aren't you?'

'There's not much fresh air,' he admitted, moving his face closer to hers. 'It's okay, Clarissa, I'm watching her. I'll force the door open if necessary.'

'We're real lucky you are here,' she told him, closing her eyes. 'Were you a doctor, Tony?'

'A doctor!' he repeated, chuckling. 'No. I'm not exactly a frequent visitor to one, either.'

'You just happen to know all about the effects of lack of oxygen,' she remarked, settling closer against him. 'No, don't answer,' she said, placing a finger on his lips. 'If you're a mechanic, Tony, I'm the empress of China!' She yawned.

'Get some sleep, your majesty,' he teased, smiling in the darkness. 'I'll wake you up when we approach the border.'

To his surprise the actual crossing proved anticlimactic. Just before they approached the border the truck stopped and Christianson opened the door, ordering them all to remain silent. Nobody moved or spoke as they joined the queue. Beside him Clarissa stiffened, trembling. He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He felt her fingers squeeze his in return and swallowed. The journey had hastened their friendship along – what would otherwise have taken him months happened in a day_. "'Above all else, be honest to yourself,' he had been told, in the marines. 'If you feel something out of the ordinary, take heed and correct it. Ignoring problems WON'T make them disappear. Are you listening, Almeida? Repeat what I just told you!"'_

Tony sighed quietly. There was little point hiding from the truth. He liked Clarissa, he liked her a lot. He loved the way her hair hung down her back when she had brushed it that morning. He loved the way she bent down and threw her arms round her daughter. He loved her gentle teasing and her humor. Her curiosity about him tickled his ego. He rested his head against the guitar, a peaceful expression on his face. It seemed he had found a friend and he would do everything to protect her and her daughter, would make certain they would reach their destination safely.

As the night wore on he found himself struggling to remain awake, not daring to shut his eyes. He had a responsibility to keep the child alive which he would not shirk. The truck moved along smooth roads, its passengers sleeping where they lay, their heads resting on each other. Clarissa's head rested on his shoulder and he was reminded of his latest girlfriend, surprised to feel only a mild regret.

The sun was high in the sky by the time the truck pulled up. Tony laid a hand on her, waking her. 'Buenas dias,' he greeted her, smiling. 'We made it.' He noted her joyous smile as the doors were pulled open. His answering smile faded as he saw Christianson and his bearded companion joined by a crowd of armed men.

'Alright, listen up. The Palma family and the following men may go. Everyone else will stay and do a little work; until I receive the full money I'm due.' He read a short list, while everyone listened in silence.

Clarissa stared at him, frightened, instinctively huddling closer to him for protection. Tony squeezed her hand. 'It'll be okay,' he whispered, moving aside to allow the fortunate few to depart. 'I'm not going anywhere!'

Once the five people disembarked, Christianson spoke again. 'Alright, the rest of you. I want you to form a queue here and you'll get a little breakfast! After that we'll assign you some work. If I catch anyone of you attempting to leave, I'll shoot immediately and let me tell you I spent five years in the marines. I don't miss! Now move it.'

Tony frowned mildly, swinging his legs over the edge. He jumped the short distance to the ground and collected his things, setting them by his feet, before lifting down Blanca and Clarissa. They stood together, the child watching the scene with wide eyes. 'How much does your brother owe?' he asked, hating the sight of the loaded weapons pointed at them.

'3000 dollars,' she admitted, quietly. 'He's paying a bit every week. Think they'll let us go?' she asked hopefully.

Tony sighed, doubting it. From what he had seen of the man, Christianson would be unlikely to excuse 3 dollars, let alone 3000. How a former marine could act this way was beyond him. He wondered how many people worked for the gang.

'Are you stupid?' a man yelled at him, poking him in the ribs with a rifle. 'Join that queue. Stand there, now. You understand a little English?'

'A little,' Tony said, pushing the rifle away. He gave the man a hard look and collected their things, hushing the terrified child. Once this was over, he would interrogate that man personally, he decided and he wouldn't be gentle!

The queue was allowed to enter a house, where tables were laid all over what he presumed had been a dining and sitting room. Tony found a table beside a window and collected their plates, bringing water and coffee. 'Okay, we've arrived. Let's eat,' he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. All around them people ate, the room eerily silent. The worn out faces, the complete end of the optimism he had witnessed the previous day caused a silent rage in his heart, which he struggled to keep inside. They had arrived in a dangerous situation and he determined to keep the young family safe.

Once the meal had been finished they were marshaled outdoors again, Christianson yelling at them to sit on the grass. They settled in a group, huddled together for security, no one daring to object.

'Alright, listen real well. The local farmers round here need a little help and you people are gonna provide that. They'll pay me for your labor and I'll give you a half of that, so you can buy yourself a little food! The harder you work, the quicker you'll pay off your debts and the more of your wages you'll get to keep. Now I'm gonna read out your names just once, so listen. Alvarez,' he called and a man rose, moving to the truck.

Clarissa stiffened, instinctively grabbing his hand. Tony pulled her close to him and slipped his arm around her. 'I won't leave you,' he whispered, feeling her shaking against him.

'Almeida,' called Christianson.

Tony rose. 'I got my sister's best friend with me and her daughter. I promised her I'd keep an eye on them,' he said, pulling the child into his arms. 'I'll go wherever you send me, but you gotta let them come with me,' he insisted, looking the man in the eye.

'I don't have to do anything,' Christianson told him, irritated. 'You're married; you should worry about your own family, not somebody else's.'

'I'd do a lot better if I could keep an eye on them,' he argued, pulling Clarissa up. 'You see, we've been seeing each other…'

'You Latinos are all the same,' cried Christianson, spitting on the ground. 'Wife at home and girlfriend somewhere else. You'll be telling me you love your wife, next.'

'I do,' Tony insisted, his face betraying no emotion. His old drill instructor would be proud of him, had he witnessed the sight.

'Alright, stay together, what does it matter?' sighed the smuggler. 'Sit over there. You three will be staying on my farm! I'll speak to you later.'

Tony dragged Clarissa behind him, carrying the child to an open section of grass, a few feet from the others. He slipped his arms around them, soothing them. 'It's gonna be okay,' he promised, speaking so softly they had to strain their ears to hear him. 'I'll keep you safe. It's gonna be okay, Clarissa! No one's gonna hurt either of you, I promise.'


	7. Agricultural Laborer

'This is it?' Tony questioned in disbelief. His eyes raked the ancient hut, noting the broken tiles, cracked panes in the windows and overgrown path. He would have hesitated suggesting the place as a shelter for his men, let alone for a woman and child. 'You're kidding!'

Christianson glared at him, nodding at the derelict hut. 'I'm serious. Of course you can all assemble yourselves a shelter outa cardboard boxes and pieces of wooden crates, if you wish. No doubt that would feel more familiar, but…'

'We'll take the hut,' Tony snapped, clenching his fists. _Focus, Almeida. You're working undercover and you're supposed to wait patiently till this guy meets his cronies. Yeah, and you also got to call CTU, somehow_.

'I'll leave you to settle in,' Christianson told him. 'Tomorrow I'll expect to see the pair of you waiting outside the kitchen door at 6:30. Don't be late.'

Tony shook his head and pushed the front door open, snapping at Blanca to stay away. It creaked, opening a foot before tilting forward, threatening to flatten him. He jumped away in time, watching the door fall onto the ground with a thud. A cloud of dust enveloped the three of them and they coughed, Clarissa pulling the child backwards.

'You two wait outside,' Tony told them, deciding he would reconnoiter first, determined to make certain nothing else would collapse inside. 'Don't come in till I call you,' he repeated, making sure Clarissa nodded.

Instinctively his fingers groped for a switch on either side of the doorframe, but the walls proved bare. Tony moved inside cautiously, heading to the opposite wall where he forced two shutters open. Light flooded the hut and he surveyed it in dismay. The place had obviously not been used for human habitation for a around a century, he decided. The whole building consisted of a single room. One side served as kitchen, with a fire place above which food was meant to be cooked; at least it was used for that purpose in the movies he'd watched. A table and four chairs stood close beside it, a cupboard faced them. There was a little space in the middle of the floor and a double bed lay against the opposite wall. Cobwebs hung freely from every corner of the roof, attached to all the furniture. He walked round slowly; testing the furniture, making certain it was solid. His feet dislodged clouds of dust from the beaten earth floor and he pressed a hand over his nose. _To think you were working at CTU last week, Almeida! Now you're back in the wild west, and it's full of dangerous nuts with guns. You got a couple of civilians to protect_. He scratched his face, sinking onto the bed. _After this is over, I'll personally lock you in here to spend a night, Jack! See how you like it_.'

'Can we come in now,' Clarissa called from the doorway and he stood up. 'Sí it's safe enough. Just don't get tangled in the cobwebs. I'll start cleaning them out right away.' He opened a cupboard and pulled out a broom, a brush and dustpan, a bucket and an ancient mop. 'We should clean up first. There's a well round the back, I'll get us some water.'

Blanca played outside while he swept the ceilings, then washed the furniture and mopped the floors. Clarissa carried the sheets outside, hanging them on the line and pouring water onto them. 'Good enough, I guess,' Tony told her, emerging with yet another bucket of black water. 'It's a lot better than when we arrived.'

Clarissa shook her head, pointing to the windows. 'They're filthy, Tony. How can we even see out?'

'We'll get round to it,' he assured her. 'Hey, we haven't got any curtains, right. At least no one can see in, either.' He grinned at her, inviting her to smile back, which she did in the end. 'We should eat,' he said, tired out from the work. 'I still got a few sandwiches.' They ate, a little slower this time. Tony resolved to find them something different the next day.

After dinner Clarissa spread her blanket on the bed and wrapped the child in it. She joined Tony on the porch, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'Gracias, Tony. The place is actually livable.'

Tony shook his head somberly. 'Not really. It's got no electricity or gas. We got to fetch all our water from the well. And we won't be able to cook.' He felt her move restlessly beside him, before she asked what he meant. 'It's a wooden stove, right? You see any wood round here? Any trees, any bushes, any sticks?' He sighed heavily, longing to return home.

A slight sniffle distracted him from his pessimistic thoughts and he stared at her startled, dismayed to see tears coursing down her cheeks. 'Hey, it's okay,' he assured her, slipping his arm round her. 'I'll sort it out tomorrow. We'll be fine. I said I'd look after you and I did.'

She sniffed again, leaning her head against his chest. 'What did you say to him, Tony?'

He took a deep breath, rubbing his face. 'Just that we're old friends.'

'He laughed at you, seemed real derogatory.'

Tony shrugged. 'Don't let it worry you. Get some sleep now.'

She got up, staring at him in dismay. 'Tony, where will you sleep?' She stared at the sleeping child, who took up an entire side of the bed. 'There's no other bed.'

'There's no room for another bed,' he told her, rubbing his eyes. 'I'll sleep on the floor. Don't worry, I've slept there before,' he insisted, removing one of the ancient blankets. 'I'll use this.'

She nodded, climbing onto the bed beside the child. 'You know something, Tony. If I ever get a son, one day, I want him to be just like you. Buenos noches.'

Tony said goodnight, rubbing his face to cover his embarrassment. He spread the quilt on the floor and settled on it, pulling a little over himself. _She wants a son like me! No one's ever said that before. None of the other girls wanted kids at all._ He shut his eyes, tired out from the uncomfortable journey and the hard work. _Who knows, maybe mom would even like this one. She certainly didn't like any of the others_. He allowed himself a faint grin, understanding her perfectly. Anita did indeed seem shallow, compared to the woman who lay a few feet from him, watching him in the darkness.

He woke them at six, shaking her shoulder until he heard a faint groan. She turned, rolling herself deeper into the blanket, her hair spreading round the pillow. Tony stared at it, reminded of his sisters' long hair in the mornings, before they brushed it. The thought made him smile in the darkness and he shook her again. 'Clarissa, wake up. Christianson wanted us at 6:30, remember? He might get nasty if we're not there.'

She woke immediately, nodding her head. 'Sí, you're right.'

Her eyes rested on her pile of clothes on top of the blanket and Tony rose hurriedly. 'I'll get some water,' he said, leaving her in peace. They tidied themselves as best they could and set out for the farmhouse, Tony carrying the child.

'So where's the back door?' she asked nervously and he led them round the building, coming upon a nondescript wooden door. They settled outside, Blanca's head nodding against his shoulder. At precisely 6:30 the door opened and Christianson stepped out.

'Alright, listen up. You two are to work here, for me. You'll cook and clean out,' he said, pointing to Clarissa. 'You,' he said, nodding his head at Tony, 'will work in the fields unless I need you to fix something. Try anything at all, the girlfriend dies. Do you understand that?'

Tony nodded, forcing his fury aside. 'Yes. Why would I try anything? Now we would like a little breakfast, first.'

Christianson gave him a hard look. 'Fair enough. You'll get fed this morning. Whether you get any lunch will depend on how much work I see. Now get inside.' He rose to go and they entered the kitchen.

'Clarissa, find us some bread. I'll be right back, I just need to find a bathroom,' Tony told her, giving her an encouraging nod. She nodded back and he slipped out of the kitchen and into the area they had all been fed in the day before. It was silent. He pushed open a closed door, shutting it when he found himself in a pantry. He strained his ears, moving into a third room. A sudden roar made him jump and he peered out of the window, noting two of Christianson's henchmen had arrived. They spoke together on the verandah and he moved further into the room, sitting down beside the phone. Listening carefully for any hint one of them was about to enter, he dialed Jack's cell. 'Come on Jack, answer the phone,' he muttered, anxiously.

'Bauer,' came a voice struggling with sleep and despite the grim situation he found himself in, he couldn't resist a smile.

'Jack, it's me. I'm in play.'

'Tony.' The voice sounded more alert. 'Where are you?'

'I'm not quite sure. We crossed the border two nights ago and I'm at Christianson's farm, not that I know where it is. It's surrounded by an electric fence, seems he's not that keen on visitors. Listen, Jack, I'm gonna need a phone, coz I can't sneak in here again, he'll shoot me.'

'You serious?' Jack asked, moving around.

'Yeah, actually I am. I just saw him parcel the aliens out yesterday to all the local farmers. He'll get paid for their labor and give them a little something to live from. I thought we abolished slavery ages ago.'

'We did,' Jack assured him.

'Sure doesn't seem so from here. Anyway, I got a job in the fields, so I'll be able to watch the movements to and from the house and if anything happens to the truck, I get to fix it! Hopefully it'll work for a while.'

Jack chuckled. 'Hopefully. Listen, Tony, I'll find out where the farm is and send an official along today, a health inspector or something. He'll hand you a cell. I'm gonna need status reports.'

'Jack, I got no electricity.'

'You'll just have to manage somehow. Tony, you're doing great, just hang in there and keep your eyes open.'

'I will. Look, is there anything you could do to shake things up a little. I mean, I sure don't see myself living here for a coupla months!'

Jack laughed. 'We'll increase our vigilance along the border or something; get these people to get together for a talk. You better go now, Tony.'

'I will. By the way, there are some civilians round here, including a three year old kid. You couldn't move them, I guess?'

Jack sighed. 'You'll have to do your best to protect them, Tony. They're hardly our priority right now. We don't want to alert the smugglers.'

'Okay, I understand,' he said reluctantly. 'Just make sure this call is deleted. They better not get billed for it.'

'I'll take care of it,' Jack assured him. Tony hung up and peered outside, noting the three men still stood outside the window, talking. He pushed the door shut behind him and crawled past the window, standing up only when he reached the kitchen. A delicious smell of coffee hung in the air and he settled at the counter, smiling at her warmly. 'Hey, that's great.'

'We're supposed to have breakfast,' she said, looking him in the eye. 'I fried us some eggs and made some toast. You're really going to work outdoors, today?'

Tony nodded. 'Sí, but I won't be far. See that field over there?' He pointed outside the open door. 'I'll be there. If you need anything, you just run down there and call me.'

She nodded, pouring him a second cup of coffee. 'Where did you learn English?' she asked casually.

'At school,' he replied, considering that it was in fact only half a lie. His parents spoke Spanish at home and the English he had known before nursery school had come mainly from the TV and the playground.

'You're pretty good,' she said and he made a mental note to speak slower and use less elaborate vocabulary. She fell silent and they ate rapidly. 'I just wish they didn't all carry guns,' she told him, her eyes uneasy.

'They're crooks,' Tony told her. 'They're not meant for us, they're meant for outsiders, trust me. As long as we cooperate we're fine.' He felt threatened by the weapons himself, but he refused to admit it to her. 'I guess I better get started,' he said, getting up as Christianson entered the kitchen.

'That smells good,' he said, nodding his head at Clarissa. 'You make me the same. Now you, Almeida, come with me. I'll show you what to do once, and once only.'

Tony nodded and was made to walk over to the field directly in front of the smuggler. They arrived in a large plantation of lettuce, rows stretching as far as he could see, all identical. 'They need weeding. Make sure you remove only the weeds, or you won't be getting fed. Now here's a shed, you got a coupla tools. They're to be returned every evening, and Tate will check them. Don't even think of stealing anything! Have you ever worked on a farm before, mechanic?'

'Yes sir, my grandfather has one and I went to help out in the holidays,' he answered, truthfully.

'Good, you're more useful than the majority of them. Get started.'

Tony spent the morning pulling weeds, taking care not to trample the young vegetables. The sun rose higher and he grew hot, wiping beads of sweat from his face. He half envied Clarissa her job in the house before he remembered the number of armed men. She was plainly terrified of them and he decided to go and make certain she was coping. Straightening with difficulty, he walked back to the house, opening the kitchen door.

Clarissa was stirring something in a large pot whilst the child played on the floor with a few spoons. _Poor little thing, she's obviously got no toys. You'll have to get her something, Almeida!_ 'Tony,' the object of his attention exclaimed and she raced to him. He swung her into his arms, grinning at her.

'You okay, princess?'

'Sí. Mama's making lunch for all those horrible men. Will you eat with us?'

'I hope so,' he told her, lifting the lid and smiling at her description. 'Clarissa, that smells great! Save some for me, would you?'

'Of course,' she assured him, watching him as he held the child. 'Thanks for coming to check up on us, Tony!'

'You got it,' he told her, pouring himself a glass of water. 'I better get back now, or I'll have to miss lunch!'

'Sí. It's worse than the army, isn't it?' she asked and he nodded before he could help himself. Clarissa laughed in joy. 'I'll figure it all out one day, Tony.'

'I guess you will,' he agreed, grinning at them before he returned to the field. The sun climbed higher and he removed his shirt, resolved to take a bottle of water with him after lunch. He wondered how many weeds he was supposed to pull, wishing he had something he could compare his efforts to. A few crows watched him, regarding him with unblinking eyes. Tony stared upwards, noting it was around midday. Presently he heard his name called and he rose, noting Christianson approaching him with another thug who had not been present on the journey.

'Almeida, show me what you've done so far,' he ordered, examining the ground critically. 'You've got the hang of it, but you're way too slow. You'll have to work a lot faster if you wish to get paid.'

'I wish to get paid,' Tony muttered, looking him in the eye.

'Good. Jarvis will be coming to see your work from now on, don't mess with him. He's used to your type.'

_I doubt that. I sure hope not, anyway._

'Now come and eat. And Jarvis, get him a hat, he'll drop dead on us. You got twenty minutes,' he finished, leaving Tony in the field.

Tony wiped his brow with his arm, not wishing to leave streaks of dirt on his face and hurried over to the kitchen. Clarissa and Blanca sat at a small table and he washed his face and hands in the sink, joining them. Extremely hungry, he took his fork and put a piece of pie into his mouth, stopping when the child stared at him. 'What?' he asked.

'Mama didn't say the prayer yet,' she said, shaking her head at him. 'Didn't your mama teach you anything, Tony?'

'Blanca,' Clarissa said, reproachfully. Tony shook his head.

'You're right, princess. She certainly did and I shouldn't forget, should I?' _Mom and Papa would really like these people. _He glanced at the kitchen clock, picturing his mother eating lunch by herself at home and his father having his sandwich in his office, barely noticing what it consisted of. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could let them know he was fine. _If they ever saw this place, those men would regret it._

The rest of the afternoon passed in a whirl, with weed after weed finding its way into his bucket, the monotony broken only once no more could fit in, when he rose and emptied it. The sun was low in the sky when he heard another truck approach and raised his head, curious to see who would visit the place. A smile played across his face as he read the writing on the truck. "County health inspector". _Your phone is here, Almeida!_

Tony walked over to the kitchen at a leisurely pace, not wishing to attract attention to himself and leaned against the wall, listening to the health inspector discuss an outbreak of deer mice in the neighboring county. He received permission to set a few traps in the fields and set off. Tony joined him once they were out of sight of the house, introducing himself.

'Thank God. I was beginning to think this was the wrong place,' the flustered agent snapped. 'I'm not real familiar with the breeding habits of deer mice! There's your phone. And Agent Bauer sent you something else.' He handed Tony a packet of candy.

'Thanks,' Tony said softly, watching his fellow agent return to the truck and drive away. He hurried over to the hut, placing the things in the attic before he returned to the field. _When does work finish round here? In the darkness, I'll bet!_


	8. The Black Eye

The next two days crawled past in unutterable boredom. Tony was soon tanned brown, and his hands developed painful blisters, one of which filled with water and burst. His requests for gloves were denied by Jarvis, an overweight redneck who took savage delight in taunting him. Tony added him to his long list of people he would personally interrogate back at CTU, picturing exactly what he would do as he pulled yet more weeds.

'I don't think I can do this much longer,' he complained to Jack, sitting outside the hut in the darkness an hour before dawn. 'You don't know what this place is like. There's nothing here, no TV, nothing. And those fields are full of weeds. That bastard expects me to get rid of them all, but I'm telling you, by the time I finish, they'll be growing back!'

'Settle down, Tony,' Jack told him, his tone patient. 'You won't be there much longer. We're getting border patrol to step up their searches of trucks; they're bound to get jittery sooner or later.'

'I'm guessing it'll be later,' Tony muttered. 'I've really had it, Jack! You know the most exciting part of the day is when the crows fly down to eat the worms I dug up! I'm going home, soon!' He wasn't, of course, but he was heartily sick of the whole affair and the need to vent his rage on someone proved irresistible.

'You'll stay in place till you hear me tell you otherwise,' Jack snapped, a lot harder. 'You're a Federal Agent for God's sake, act like one!'

'Yeah, that's it, I'm a Federal Agent,' Tony retorted, bitterly. 'Last time I looked, Federal Agents worked in an office. In a building, Jack, right? And they got to go home, when their day was done.'

'Tony, have you got anything else to report?'

'Yeah,' he said, sarcastically. 'I see a little light in the east. I'm guessing the sun will be up in an hour!'

'Goodbye, Tony,' Jack told him, hanging up.

Tony pocketed his cell, scowling. He sat on the damp ground picturing his parents asleep in bed, until the desire to call them overwhelmed him. The sun was definitely rising, they could survive waking up a little early once in while. He dialed the number ingrained into his memory, listening to it ring. _Why aren't they answering? Did they go somewhere? They would've told me if they'd planned any trips._

'Almeida,' said a voice, as the ringing stopped, obviously half asleep.

'Papa, it's me,' Tony began, quietly.

'Tony,' his father cried, relief in his voice. 'We didn't know where you were. We called CTU and spoke to someone called Nina, but she said it's strictly classified. How are you?'

'I'm fine,' Tony assured him. 'I'm still following this guy; I'm at his home, with a whole lot of colorful characters. It's not a place for mom, but I'm okay. How's everyone?'

'We're all fine, don't worry about us. Just make sure they don't discover you. I spoke to abuelo; he said you were great; you helped him collect all the crops. I'm real proud of you, Tony.'

'Gracias,' he said, wishing he could return home. 'It wasn't much. We didn't work in the fields all day, we had a siesta when it got hot and there was always plenty of food.'

'Tony are you okay? You're undercover, what EXACTLY is your cover?' his father questioned.

Tony sighed, rubbing his face. 'I'll tell you when I get back' he promised. 'Just as long as you won't laugh at me. Is my car back?'

His father laughed. 'Yeah, I picked it up.'

Tony thanked him and switched off the phone, taking care to replace it silently. He curled up in his blanket and shut his eyes, having given up hope of getting comfortable. At least his parents were somewhat reassured of his safety, he would be able to get through the coming day with one less worry. And there was one slight, very slight compensation for his discomfort – waking Jack every morning at 5:30. Tony felt a slight grin tug the corners of his lips as he fell asleep.

'Almeida, there you are!' Jarvis told him, a bead of sweat running down his face. 'I thought I told you to put the grapes in that container, not to eat them yourself! Friggin' useless, these aliens, if you ask me.'

'I eat only a little,' Tony muttered, longing to strangle the man behind the tall vines. 'Your container is full!'

'So empty it, you lazy bastard! It goes into the truck, remember?' He tapped his head with his finger.

_Easy, Almeida, focus. You WILL NOT punch him in the face. Focus!_ Tony nodded and got up; finishing the last few grapes on the bunch he had permitted himself to eat.

'Where do you imagine you're going?' Jarvis snapped. 'I haven't finished talking to you.'

"_Where do you imagine you're going, lieutenant? You haven't been dismissed yet!"_ Tony groaned inwardly and pulled his impassive mask on. 'You wanted to tell me something, Mr. Jarvis?' he asked, as politely as he could manage.

'I sure did. Mr. Christianson wants you right away. He's in the house.' He glared at Tony, who felt an icy shiver rush through him as he rose to follow Jarvis across the field. Had his cover been blown? Would they hurt Clarissa if that happened? He resolved to mention them to Jack again.

'Almeida, there you are,' Christianson told him as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes searching automatically for Clarissa. 'I got a job for you. The freezer's not working. It's right over there. Fix it before the meat de-thaws.'

Tony stared at the large freezer in disbelief. 'Sir, I'm a mechanic,' he protested, the lie coming almost naturally this time. 'I fix trucks, not freezers. You'll need to call…'

'I'm not interested in hearing excuses,' Christianson snapped, his face turning red. 'You think I need people crawling round my property? I don't. Fix that freezer immediately, or you'll regret it!' He tapped the freezer impatiently. 'And move as much of the stuff into the fridges as you can. I'll be in the office, let me know when you're done.'

Tony permitted a whole list of Spanish oaths to escape his mouth as he studied the silent freezer. He had never examined one before, having seen his first one in the marines, on KP. Slowly he opened the lid and carried as many things as he could squash into the fridges, before settling on the floor. 'So why aren't you working,' he muttered, glaring at it. 'Mechanical or electrical?' _Focus, Almeida! You have fixed the fridge before. How different can this be?_

He removed the white cover, checking the motor first, hoping the problem lay there. To his dismay it appeared fine. Tony sighed, struggling to recall what he had been taught in the one course he had taken during his second year of college that dealt with the electrical component of machines_. Make sure it's unplugged, Almeida! You sure don't wanna get zapped!_

'Tony,' a little voice called and turned in relief, having spent the previous twenty minutes with his attention split between the freezer and the possible whereabouts of his friends. Blanca ran to him, her pig tails dancing behind her. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm fixing this freezer,' he explained, 'so the ice-cream won't melt.'

'Good,' she said, removing a few wooden spoons and an old saucepan. 'I'm cooking! Will you have lunch?'

'Aha,' he replied, returning his attention to the freezer. The problem proved simple enough, he found a frayed wire and removed it, adding a new one from the cupboard Christianson pointed him to.

'Not bad, Almeida,' he remarked, once the freezer was plugged back in, switching on immediately. 'You're quite useful, after all. Get some lunch, then get back to the grapes, they need picking.'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed, relieved to see him leave the kitchen. 'You got anything for me to eat, Clarissa?'

'Sit down,' she replied, preparing him a sandwich. 'Tony, you didn't tell me you were an electrician,' she said, handing it to him.

'That's because I'm not,' he insisted, meeting her eyes.

'You're telling me you know nothing about electrical parts, you just found the problem and solved it? You don't have to tell me who you are, but don't take me for a fool!' She turned and left the kitchen, sweeping the verandah.

'Hey, I done a real short course on it, alright,' Tony told her, following her outside. 'I know only the most basic bits.' He searched her eyes, reading a lingering dissatisfaction. 'I'm really not that exciting, Clarissa.' He finished his sandwich and returned to the grapes, hoping she would greet him more cheerfully in the evening.

The afternoon dragged on as he cut bunch after bunch, placing them in boxes and carrying the boxes over to a truck. Slowly the truck filled while he trudged back and forth, weary beyond words. Around sunset Jarvis came to check his progress. 'You've done a bit, Almeida.'

'I done a lot,' Tony protested, unable to keep silent. 'The whole truck is full. I filled every box alone.'

'As you should, it's what you're here for, right?' Jarvis smiled at him, baring his teeth. 'Get used to it. You'll be here for a very long time.' His grin widened, while Tony used every remaining ounce of self control to avoid retaliating. 'You got three more boxes,' he said, nodding his head at the ground.

'What a problem,' Tony muttered. 'You have to wait one more minute.' He shook his head, bending to lift the first box.

He was unprepared for the blow he received from Jarvis, whose fist landed on his right eye. The box dropped from his hand, the contents scattering as he rubbed his face, cursing in Spanish.

'You never answer back to me, Almeida,' Jarvis said, giving him a hard look. 'Try it again; your girl will be real sorry. Now put those boxes in the truck! And return the tools to the shed.' He left; walking backwards for a few feet to make certain Tony would not go after him.

_Focus, Almeida, you're here to bust them, right? So keep quiet and keep your eyes open and the moment you notice any more of these scum, you'll call Jack_. He rubbed his eye again, gingerly. Slowly he lifted the two full boxes into the truck and collected the scattered bunches into the third, before he headed back to his hut, too tired and furious to eat. To his dismay Clarissa was already there, washing a window. He sighed, having decided to place a cold handkerchief over his eye and reduce the swelling before she returned.

'Tony, why didn't you get your dinner?' she cried, dismayed. 'Oh no, what's happened? Who hit you?' She reached forward gently, touching his cheek just under the bruise.

'It's nothing,' Tony said, taking a step backwards. 'I'll just get some water from the well and bathe it.'

'Sit down,' she said firmly, in a tone reminiscent of his mother when she was displeased. 'I'll get it.' She waited till he settled on the step, returning soon with a full bucket. 'I got a clean hanky' she said, dipping it into the water. 'Keep still, Tony.'

Tony watched her out of his left eye, noting the way her hand shook as she held the cloth over his bruise. 'It's going to be swollen shut tomorrow,' she said, clearly upset.

'I'm fine,' he assured her, touched by her concern.

'No you're not. That eye looks bad.'

'I've had worse,' he insisted, squeezing her hand.

Clarissa shook her head, dipping the cloth back in the bucket. Tony winced as she returned it to his eye. 'Rest your head,' she told him, pushing it gently against the post. 'Was it Jarvis?'

'Sí, he was trying to teach me the importance of loading grapes quickly,' he told her, smiling ruefully.

'Tony,' she began.

'I know. I won't provoke him again.' He took the cloth, dipping it into the icy water.

Clarissa bent forward suddenly and kissed him, her lips sucking his, her tongue pushing until his mouth opened. The cloth slid into his lap as he drew her closer, returning the kiss. 'God, Tony, I really love you,' she groaned, while his hands ran through her hair.

_You love her too, Almeida, you know it!_ He held her close, kissing her again, while she stroked his hair. Abruptly she broke away, standing up. 'Stay there, Tony, keep that cloth on your eye. I'll go and bring your dinner over here.'

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't hungry, but shut it instead as he realized that he was in fact starving. 'I'll come with you,' he said, hating the thought of her returning to the house with the armed men.

'No you won't,' she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and pushing him down gently. 'I'll be back in a few minutes. Just stay and watch Blanca for me.' She gave him a look filled with love and he nodded, leaning back against the post. His rage had disappeared, his heart beating calmly as a peaceful feeling crept over him. Someone loved him. He undressed the child, washed her while telling her about Goldilocks and the three bears, tucking her into bed by the time she returned.

They ate together outside, sitting on the step, balancing plates on their knees. 'You're a great cook,' he told her and she blushed, shaking her head.

'I just get paid for it, that's all. I'm determined not to cost my brother anymore money, Tony.'

Tony nodded, noting her sense of responsibility. 'Have you thought what you'll do when you get to Boston?' he asked her, no longer trying to slip questions in casually. 'You're an illegal alien without papers. What happens when Blanca needs to start school, or if you get sick?'

'My brother knows someone who sells papers,' she told him, leaning comfortably against him, sending shivers through his body. 'I'll get some kind of job cleaning houses and I'll pay for it. And then we'll be okay,' she finished.

Tony nodded, understanding her logic. 'I guess. What happens if one of you gets sick before then?'

'We won't,' she replied. 'We can't.'

Tony swallowed, remembering the countless times his mother had taken her toddlers to the doctor. Sitting beside her in the darkness, he resolved to help her get settled and the hell with the consequences. He finished the last of the shepherd's pie and laid his plate on the ground, taking hers. Her hand slid into his hair again, stroking it gently, before she hugged him and pulled him closer for another kiss.

'Tell me if I'm hurting your face,' she told him, breathless, while he laughed, shaking his head.

'No I won't,' he teased, kissing her deeply. 'It'll just have to hurt a bit, then.' He pulled her closer towards him, closing his eye. They held each other in silence, listening to each others breathing and the chirping of thousands of crickets. Clarissa dipped the cloth back into the bucket, bathing his eye, while he leaned back.

'Don't forget to bathe it, Tony, or you won't be able to open it for a few days,' she reminded him.

'I won't anyway,' he answered, having experienced it before. 'I got hit by a golf ball a coupla years back. It was my first time on the course, some friends insisted I come join them and I wasn't paying complete attention. It came out of nowhere,' he explained, watching her face.

'You should be more careful. Golf balls are lethal,' she told him and he smiled again. 'My mom told me the exact same thing,' he said, dipping the cloth into the bucket. 'She actually asked me never to go play it again!'

'And you agreed?' she teased, replacing the cloth on his eye.

Tony grinned at her mischievously. 'Ow Clarissa, I was an adult. Do you expect me to obey every warning my mother would give?'

'I think you'd agree,' she said, teasing him.

_She's a good judge of character, Almeida!_ 'Ok, so I agreed,' he admitted, hearing a peal of laughter. He laughed with her, placing a finger on her lips. 'But only because – listen -only because it was a long distance call and I couldn't have afforded to pay any more. My mom won't let go once she gets an idea, she'd talk for hours.' They laughed together.

'And did you go play golf again?' she asked, running her hand along his back.

'No,' he sighed. 'But not because mama forbade it! Nobody asked me since, that's all!'

'Aha,' she said, in a mocking tone, pulling his shoulder. He slid along the post, nodding. 'Aha.'

He felt warm arms round his shoulders, a hand sliding inside his t-shirt, rubbing his chest before she pulled it off. Tony sat up slowly, shaking his head. 'Clarissa, I can't' he told her, filled with regret. 'It's not that I don't wanna, but I really can't.' _You won't take advantage of a woman when she's down, Almeida. No matter how much you might want to._

'I know about your wife and kids,' she told him, sliding a hand inside his jeans. 'It's okay, Tony, I know we can't be together. But you're here, and I'm here, and I want you.'

Tony rubbed his face, watching her. 'Clarissa, you don't know who I am,' he told her, softly, unwilling to stop her. 'If you knew everything about me, you wouldn't even wanna speak to me.'

'I know you're not a mechanic from Mexico,' she told him, putting fresh water on the cloth. 'You're highly educated, you speak that way,' she interrupted as he held up a hand. 'I'm guessing you studied some kind of engineering and you obviously spent a long time in the army. You're hiding from something, I've known that since the first day, but you know what? I don't care what you done, Tony. You're the only one who helped Blanca and me. I see you watching out for us everyday. I see you playing with her and you're real decent sleeping on the cold floor, but I don't want you to. This is a new country for us. Whatever you done, it's over, you can start again.'

Tony drew her into his arms, tilting her chin towards him. 'You real sure?' he asked softly, watching the moon light up her smile.

'I'm sure,' she replied, removing his jeans.

'Wait a sec,' he told her, getting up silently and returning with his blanket, which he spread on the grass. He pulled her into his arms, removing her top. 'I can't put it behind me, Clarissa, it's always there,' he whispered. 'But I love you. I always will.'


	9. On The Road

A warm kiss tickled him awake the next morning. Tony rolled over, shocked to find his right eye refused to open. What in the world had happened to it? The next moment another question crowded his worry aside. Why was he lying in the double bed, squashed by the edge? Taking a deep breath he recalled the previous evening, making love to Clarissa several times under the stars before she led him inside, refusing to allow him to sleep on the floor. He had curled up beside her instead; arms wrapped around her and had fallen asleep so soundly that he would not have woken for hours.

'Tony, wake up,' she repeated, kissing him again. 'Oh, look at that eye! I'll get you some water.'

He shook his head, climbing out of bed. 'That's my job,' he insisted, grabbing the bucket. He pulled on his clothes rapidly before Clarissa woke the child and hurried to the well. There was one thing he had forgotten about, though he couldn't recall exactly what it was, his mind filled with reliving the previous night.

Clarissa made them breakfast in the kitchen and they ate leisurely, chatting about children. Blanca seemed to sense the change between them for she sat on Tony's lap, insisting on eating from his plate. Her small fingers lifted his mug and took a sip of his coffee. He watched her, noting her grimace in silent amusement.

'Not too strong for you, princess?' he asked, fighting to keep his face straight.

'No, it's just a bit hot,' she said. 'I'm not really hungry.' She laid her head against his chest and he brushed her forehead, worried to note it appeared a little warm.

'You feeling okay, princess?' he asked, taking care to keep his voice cheerful.

'Sí,' Blanca said, but she was obviously off color. Tony resolved to look in on her later.

'I better go,' he told them, getting up regretfully. 'Don't want another disagreement with Jarvis!'

Clarissa hurried after him to the door. 'Promise me you won't annoy him, Tony!'

'I promise,' he answered, pulling her towards him for a kiss. 'You be good, too!' He went to the shed, collecting his gardening tools.

'Almeida,' a voice told him and he turned.

'Yes, Mr. Jarvis,' he replied, as politely as he could. 'Which field needs work today?'

'All of them, but Mr. Christianson needs you for something else. He wants to see you in his office.'

Tony nodded and returned to the house with a sinking heart. Surely the freezer hadn't stopped working? Or had the smuggler learned about his black eye? Chewing his lip he entered the house and knocked on the office door. 'You wanted to see me, sir?' he asked, as politely as he would have at CTU.

_CTU. Oh shit, you forgot to call Jack! He'll be real pissed off, Almeida!_

He forced an impassive look onto his face and waited patiently for the smuggler to finish writing something. 'Almeida, I'm going to need you for something else today,' he began, turning to face him for the first time. 'Ah, I see you've been taught a lesson,' he observed, smiling humorlessly.

Tony regarded him steadily out his left eye_. Get to the point! What impossible task have you got for me this time?_

'Young is sick. You're to take his place today. Your job is to drive the truck with Stevens and keep him safe. Touch any of the money; I'll kill you and the girlfriend. Oh, and don't imagine you'll run – there's nowhere to go. All the farmers are my friends round here and of course, should you be foolish enough to try anything, the girlfriend dies.' He waved a hand at Tony, who nodded and walked through the house to the front verandah where Stevens waited, fists clenched_. So you're to drive! Wonder where you're_ _going?_

A tattooed man a head taller than himself sat in Christianson's smaller truck on the passenger seat. Tony pushed open the door, finding the keys in the ignition. Starting up, he wondered why he was the one assigned to drive, until he noticed a reflection beside the man. He was armed, the gun within easy reach of his right hand. 'Where are we going?' he inquired, eyes fixed on the road.

'You'll drive where I tell you to,' snapped Stevens, refusing to give him further information.

Tony shrugged. 'Okay.' He would find out soon enough. The country lane stretched ahead, occasionally turning to avoid an old tree, the land undulating slightly. A narrow ditch ran beside the road and beyond that wild grass grew as far as the electrical fence. He assumed they were still passing Christianson's property. At least he got to see a little of the surroundings – if the worst happened he would know where to hide Clarissa and the child.

'Turn right,' Stevens ordered, and Tony noticed a narrow track with a rusting letterbox beside it. He slowed the truck and turned onto the rough track, noting the lack of shock absorbers as they bounced over the holes. 'Slower!' Stevens snapped and he pushed the truck into second gear. They continued in silence between rows of orange trees, Tony glancing at the heat indicator before him. 'We nearly there?' he asked, pointing to the dashboard. 'We'll overheat at this speed.'

'Yep,' Stevens assured him. 'It's right up ahead. Pull up just before the house and remain in the truck.'

'Aha,' Tony agreed, stopping in front of an imposing front door.

'Don't even think of leaving, or I'll show you just how much stronger I am than that weasel Jarvis!' Stevens warned.

Tony permitted himself a frustrated sigh once the man left. _The world's dumbest, most aggressive illiterates all gathered in one location. Geez Almeida, you're real lucky!_ He rolled down his window and examined the house before him critically, noting nothing out of the ordinary. _Come on Almeida, you're a federal agent, act like one! There's something going on here, otherwise you wouldn't have come. Look around._

A woman approached the truck, a hose in her hand. Tony watched her water a few bougainvillea before he joined her. 'Buenas dias,' he began.

'Go back to your truck before I squirt you,' she hissed, turning her back on him.

Tony rubbed his face, startled by her vehemence. He had never, as far as he knew, met her before. 'Right now, you creep! No one will feel sorry for you if I do.'

'Okay, I'm leaving,' he assured her, turning to face her. 'I'm real sorry for whatever it is I've done,' he said gently.

The woman pursed her lips. 'So what do you get paid, being Christianson's lapdog? Is it really that much that you'd betray us all? They'll never respect you. See,' she pointed to his injured eye. 'They'll keep doing it every time you get an original idea, just to teach you to remember your place. They'll never let you go.'

He touched his bruise gingerly, feeling his entire right cheek swollen. 'I only got here a few days ago,' he protested. 'I haven't betrayed anything.'

'That you have,' she replied, turning her back on him. Tony returned to the truck puzzled. She hated his presence – the truck's and Steven's presence really. They were working against her interests, well, that much was obvious anyway. He rubbed his face, wishing someone would offer him a drink. The sight of water pouring onto the plants was almost more than he could bear.

'Alright, Almeida, I'm ready. Let's go,' Stevens ordered, climbing into his seat. He tossed an exercise book and a box onto the floor near his feet. Tony started the truck and turned it, driving back over the bumpy track, noting a few people among the orange trees. 'Keep going until you come to the next entry on the right and turn down there,' Stevens ordered.

The house they arrived at was larger than the previous one and appeared deserted. Stevens knocked on the door carrying the exercise book in his hand and it was opened without him getting a chance to catch a glimpse of the interior. Tony waited till it was shut before he reached for the box that remained on the floor. _Alright, Almeida, take a look!_ He picked the lock easily enough and opened the lid, unsurprised to find it full of money. _Seems as though we're collecting the aliens' pay! No wonder that woman was so mad. Dammit, Jack, I can't do this for much longer. When the hell are you gonna step up border security and frighten these guys?_

He closed the box and returned the lock, laying it back where it had been left – not a minute too soon. The door opened and Stevens appeared, tossing the notebook behind him. 'Let's go, Almeida.'

'Listen, it's real hot in here,' Tony complained, wiping his forehead. 'Could I go ask for some water?'

'We're on a tight schedule,' Stevens replied, fastening his seatbelt. 'You'll get some at the next place. Let's go.'

Once they reached the next house Tony reminded him of the promised drink. He was told to walk round the back and get some from the kitchen, Stevens reminding him to lock the truck and return within the minute. Relieved, he slipped out and followed an imposing stone house around until he reached a back door. He pushed it open, fully prepared for further insults, but it was empty. Sighing in relief he turned the tap and cupped his hands, drinking his fill. _Drink some more, Almeida. You don't know how many more places you'll be visiting today. Wonder where Stevens is?_ At that last thought he turned off the tap and crept across the kitchen, pushing open the door.

Distant laughter reached his ears from somewhere to the right. Tony took a deep breath and followed it, tiptoeing along a gloomy passage. Stevens proved to be in a lounge room, sitting on a leather armchair, poring over the exercise book. Tony strained his eyes in vain; it was too far to make anything out. A shorter man sat directly across from him, drinking beer from an open can. 'It's all there. Wouldn't wanna cheat Christianson now, would I?'

'Wouldn't be a good idea,' Stevens agreed, reaching for his own beer. 'They sure don't work real hard,' he sighed.

'Nah. I'll need a couple more at this rate. Listen Jake, have lunch with me? Young's welcome too.'

'He's sick. I got some Latino driving, some mechanic.'

'He can wait,' the owner of the property decided, while Tony chewed his lip_. Keep it shut, Almeida! You're only here to observe, remember?_

'Right. Ok, I will. Haven't seen you in the bar, Tom.'

'I was in LA,' the property owner informed him. 'I'll call Elena.'

Heart beating wildly Tony dived through the nearest open doorway, hearing footsteps heading towards the kitchen. A woman's voice answered, and she was ordered to take lunch into the dining room. He remained where he was, pressed against the wall behind a large grandfather clock, its loud ticking interfering with his listening. Presently he heard footsteps down the passage. Plates were laid in another room directly opposite the one he was hidden in and two voices spoke, clinking cutlery. Once again he crept to the door, peering round it.

Stevens and "Tom" sat at the table, "Tom" directly opposite him. Tony chewed his lip and knelt down, waiting impatiently until the man glanced away before he crept out and down the passage. Unable to return to the kitchen where someone was obviously working, he decided to creep through the front. As long as no one noticed him, he would be able to return to the truck.

The notebook lay where it had been abandoned on the coffee table, open at the page Stevens had been examining. His natural curiosity overcame his desire to flee while he had a chance and he slipped inside, picking up the book. It contained a list of names, followed by a column labeled "working hours", followed by an unlabelled column with a few numbers in it, and ending with a list of amounts. Frowning in concentration he leafed backwards until he came upon his own name.

Almeida T. 35 hrs. 4 dollars. 140 dollars.

He scratched his face, annoyed_. I worked a lot more than 35 hours this week! And what's that 4? Whatever it is, it works out to 140 – oh damn. That's your wage! Gee, Almeida, you're not exactly gonna make the top ten richest guys in the country on that! Just as well CTU is also paying you!_ He rubbed his face harder, reminding himself to call Jack when he returned.

Slowly he replaced the grey notebook and crept to the front door. He unlocked it as quietly as he could and slipped outside, closing it silently behind him. The garden appeared deserted. Tony returned to the truck and unlocked the door. A blast of hot air greeted him and he stepped backwards. If Stevens could sit in a pleasant dining room and eat lunch he could at least find himself some shady spot to wait in.

'There you are, Almeida,' Stevens snarled as he appeared an hour later, followed by "Tom." 'I thought I told you to wait in the truck.' He glared in pure hatred at the agent.

'I'm only a coupla feet away,' Tony answered, keeping his voice neutral with difficulty. 'It's hot there.'

'Get back in.' Stevens pointed to the truck, eyeing Tony. 'Next time, you'd do well to listen. Can't trust any of them,' he told his companion, who agreed wholeheartedly. Tony added him to the growing list of people he planned on interrogating personally. 'If anything's missing, Almeida, I'll skin you alive.'

Tony chewed his lip as he climbed into the truck, having forgotten about the unattended box. 'I've been here the whole time, no one came near the truck,' he assured Stevens, praying it was indeed so.

'Drive,' Stevens ordered, waving to "Tom." Once they were on the road he unlocked the box, counting the money openly. 'You're lucky this time, it's all there,' he said, glaring at Tony. 'Next time you remain IN the truck. Do you understand that?'

Tony nodded, his eye on the road. 'Do you understand that?' Stevens repeated several decibels louder.

'Aha,' he agreed. They sat in silence until they reached the next house, the smallest on their route.

'You, stay,' Stevens said, pointing to the seat. 'My dog can understand that, do you think you can?'

'Yeah,' Tony forced out, resolving to call Johnson to help him interrogate the man regardless of his cooperation.

'Good, coz there's a lot of money in the truck. And don't imagine you can steal a bit. I've seen people killed for taking a dollar,' Stevens warned, climbing out.

Tony glared at him and turned on the radio, wishing the day were over. He longed to take the truck and drive home, and eat dinner with his family. Groaning aloud, he pushed the thought from his head. He was on duty, however dismal his assignment was proving to be.

Fortunately Stevens returned shortly and they set off again, further along the road. To his surprise they drove into a small town, where Stevens instructed him to park just before the post office.

'There's something I really need to get,' Tony began, glancing at his hostile companion. 'Could I get my money now?'

'Mr. Christianson said you might want something,' Stevens sighed. 'Ok, here's your money.' He opened the box and pushed 85 dollars into Tony's hand.

'Where's the rest?' he demanded, startled.

'The rest goes to Mr. Christianson. Do you want the money, or not?'

'Yeah,' he replied, telling himself he would only be forced to endure another week or so, two at the worst.

'Fine. Be back in twenty minutes,' he was told and he nodded, jumping gladly from the truck.

All was silent as he trudged across the field that evening, carrying his package in his arms. For a moment he worried that something had happened as he failed to see a light before he remembered the hut contained no electricity. They were probably asleep. He pushed the door open softly, praying Clarissa had brought a little food for him.

'Tony, you're back,' Clarissa cried, hugging him tightly. 'We didn't know where you were.' He felt her trembling against him and hugged her back.

'Hey, I had to drive some guy around. We stopped in town.' He put his hand in his bag and withdrew a packet of chocolate. 'This is for you, for those great dinners,' he told her, rewarded by a kiss.

'What's that?' she asked, pointing to the large package.

'It's for Blanca,' he said, glancing round, his eyes not fully adjusted to the gloom. 'Where is she?'

'I'm here,' she called and he made her out, tucked up in bed.

'Come here for a moment, princess,' he said and she joined him. 'I got this for you. Your mama will help you open it.' He patted her hair and rose. 'I'll go wash,' he said, collecting a fresh pile of clothes. 'Oh, there's one more thing.' He handed a small package to Clarissa. 'It's aspirins, in case someone gets sick.'

Clarissa joined him as he poured the third bucket of water over himself, enjoying the feeling of being clean again. He held out a wet arm as he heard her approach and drew her to him, kissing her deeply. 'How was your day?'

'Ok, apart from worrying about you.' She pressed herself closer to him, ignoring the water. 'Tony, I don't know what I'd do if they transferred you somewhere.' She sniffed and buried her face in his chest. 'I was so afraid they sent you to some other farm, coz you answered back to Jarvis.'

'Hey, Clarissa,' he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. 'You know I'd NEVER leave you two here alone.' He lifted her face with his fingers, tilting it upwards to look at her. 'I hardly think I'm the only one Jarvis dealt with,' he told her with a grimace. They won't transfer me for that. You should be proud of me today, I got insulted at least twenty times and I kept quiet! Do I get a kiss?'

'You do,' she whispered, kissing him deeply, her tongue probing his mouth. 'Tony, it was so kind of you, getting Blanca that dolls' house. She's so happy.'

He nodded, drying himself and throwing on his clothes. 'You're both real welcome,' he assured her, following her back.


	10. The Altercation

A cool breeze rustled the tall grass he lay in, cell phone in hand. He waited in silence another minute, to make certain he was alone before dialing. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, followed by the loudest hissing he'd ever heard from a cat, overlapping a myriad night insects. A voice yelled something, too quiet for him to make out the words and all fell silent again. Tony took a deep breath and called Jack's cell, praying that it would remain unanswered and he could simply leave a message.

'Bauer,' Jack's voice said, startling him in the stillness. 'Are you ok, Tony? You didn't call this morning.'

'I'm fine,' Tony assured him. 'I couldn't call before.' He rubbed his face, hoping Jack would pick up on his reluctance to discuss the morning and avoid questioning him further.

'Why not? Is anyone onto you?' Jack asked.

'Not exactly. Look, there are people all round me, ok? I can't always sneak out to make a call.' He drew another breath. 'Jack, how's it going on your end? You got any success on the border.'

'We're doing what we can,' Jack assured him. 'It'll take a little time, Tony. Sit tight.'

'Yeah. And just how long is "a little time", Jack? Coz I'm gettin' a little tired of being yelled at all day.'

He could almost hear the amusement in his boss's voice. 'I understand that Tony, I really do, but you're undercover and you got to take it. It's not as though you haven't been to boot camp – they would've yelled there too.'

'It was a while ago,' Tony muttered, glaring at the phone in his hand. 'They also trained me. Here they just yell!'

'Look, Tony, just take it, that's an order. You could also try to get a little closer to Christianson.'

'Gee, it sounds great,' Tony snapped. 'You know I had to drive round the neighboring farms and collect money all day yesterday. That bastard is taking almost everything the aliens earn. Jack, they look at me like,' he scratched his head, 'like I'm some kinda monster. I can't do it again.'

Jack must have read the desperation in his voice for his tone was gentler. 'It won't be for much longer, Tony. If I were you, I'd try to impress this guy, try to replace whoever drives the truck, for instance. You'd stand a good chance of meeting his cronies that way.' He paused and waited in vain for some comment. 'Tony, are you listening?'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, his lips drawn into a thin line.

'The sooner you get to see his cronies and pass me some names, the sooner we can pick them up and you get to go home.'

Tony sighed in frustration and hung up without saying goodbye, feeling a childish sense of satisfaction. Jack would be left fuming! He grinned at the thought, finding little comfort in anything else that had been said. A moment later he sighed aloud, picturing Jack at home, worrying whether he had been discovered. _He won't think that, Almeida, he'll just assume you're real pissed off. He won't worry._ He rolled onto his back, staring at the stars, his conscience bothering him, until he groaned aloud and dialed Jack's cell again.

'Bauer.'

'I'm sorry, Jack. I'll do what I can, alright?'

'Alright. I was worried they were onto you.' There was a long pause. _You can say you heard something, Almeida, you had to hang up_. 'Don't hang up on me again, Tony, do you understand? I nearly called the strike team to get you out!'

'Yeah,' he said, his cheeks burning.

'Ok, get some rest. And call me tomorrow.' He hung up and Tony rubbed his face guiltily_. Just as well you called him back, Almeida! Sure he chewed you out, but he was concerned for your safety. Now that's a first!_

He returned to the hut noiselessly and replaced the phone, climbing back into bed beside Clarissa. She stirred sleepily and slipped her arm round him. Tony pulled her closer, burying his head in her shoulder. He had another hour of peace before he would be forced to take up his duties again. Tired out, he shut his eyes and allowed thoughts of the previous week in, falling asleep with a smile on his face. Once again he had to be woken by her.

'Tony, get up. You don't want to miss breakfast, do you?' He opened his eyes and grinned at her, noting her anxious expression.

'No I don't. Come here.' He drew her close for a lingering kiss, wishing to do a lot more. Gently she removed his hand from her neck and nodded her head at Blanca and he nodded back wordless. 'She's still asleep.' Tony climbed out of bed and pulled her outside behind him, hugging her tightly the moment they reached the verandah. 'I love you,' he whispered, startled to find that he had spoken from his heart_. You've really fallen for her, Almeida. There's no way you'll just let her go when this is over._

Her hands wrapped round his neck and he pulled her forwards a step, kneeling down in the long grass. Whispering endearments, he kissed her, pulling her towards him.

They arrived at the house half an hour later than usual, unable to take their eyes from each other. Tony sat Blanca on a bar stool and helped prepare the coffee, while Clarissa set about making sandwiches in a great hurry.

'Almeida, you're late,' snapped Christianson, walking into the kitchen as he was about to pour the coffee.

'Yeah,' Tony agreed, adding sugar to their mugs.

'Is that all you got to say? Who the hell do you think you are?' snapped his irate boss. 'You'd better learn to keep a civil tongue in your head and show up on time, or I'll get the boys to teach you a lesson you'll remember for a long time.'

Tony narrowed his eyes, feeling Clarissa's hand slip into his own. _It's okay, sweetheart, I'll keep quiet._ He stirred the mugs, carrying them over to the counter. 'You having lemon tea, princess?'

The child nodded and he returned to the kettle, keeping his eye on Christianson who remained in the doorway. 'You wanted to tell me something, sir?' he inquired, wishing the man would leave. His good mood was fast evaporating and he found himself growing irritated.

'I did. The downstairs toilet is blocked, won't flush. I want you to fix it after breakfast.'

'You know, Mr. Christianson, I'm a mechanic,' Tony began hotly. 'You need a plumber. You're gonna need to spend a little money and call one!'

'I've had enough of that attitude,' Christianson snapped. 'Mechanic, plumber, it's the same thing! If my toilet isn't working by 11:00, you won't be seeing any money for so long you'll forget what it looks like! And if I hear another word from you in that tone, I'll have you beaten up and the girlfriend transferred. Do you get it?'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, fuming. _Somehow, Almeida, I doubt whether that's the kind of attention Jack had in mind when he suggested you get noticed. He'll yell at you too, tomorrow. Dammit, what's stopping you from taking Clarissa by the hand and just leaving?_

To his relief the smuggler left and he let out an irritated breath, translating his new task for her. She laughed merrily, her eyes sparkling. 'You know, Tony, I'll be glad to have you in the house today,' she admitted, stroking his hair. 'Just behave, I'm worried about Christianson. He looked real mad.'

Tony nodded, brushing her fringe from her eyes. 'I will. Dammit, I got a real awful job today!'

'I'll make you a huge lunch,' she comforted.

The toilet proved blocked, refusing to dispose of a single piece of toilet paper. Tony sighed and walked outside, searching for a connection point. Having a little experience with similar problems, he found it soon, a few inches from the house. He pulled it open, noting it too was full. 'Aha. Looks like I got to dig the pipe up, it's broken somewhere,' he told Clarissa, who slipped out to check on his progress.

'You're great, Tony. Is there anything you can't do?' she teased, and he grinned at her.

'There must be, I just haven't discovered it yet,' he joked. 'I'll go get a spade.'

She turned back to the house while he went to the shed, noting a scowling Jarvis in the distance. _Guess you don't get to boss me around today either, Jarvis. You'll have to find someone else to pick on instead!_

The next hour passed rapidly while he dug up the paving directly above the pipe, piling the bricks on top of each other. The sun beat down on him and he was relieved to see Clarissa bring him a large jug of lemonade, followed by Blanca who clung to her skirt. 'Drink that, Tony, it's terribly hot,' she said and he nodded gratefully, moving under the shade of a palm tree.

'It sure is. You know, I think he's guilty,' Tony told her, pointing to the tree, chewing his lip in silent amusement as he noticed her puzzled face. 'He's way too close to the house! I'm guessing there's a reason he's so tall and healthy.'

She shook her head confused.

He rose nonchalantly and moved over to the freshly dug trench, lifting a length of pipe, totally crushed by roots the thickness of her arms. 'Murder,' he told her, struggling to keep his face expressionless. 'I'd say it was strangled.'

'You mean the roots broke the pipe?' she asked, and he nodded. 'Tony, you should be a comedian,' she told him, dissolving into fits of laughter, while he swallowed the last of the juice and took her into his arms.

'I might have heard that one before,' he said, laughing with her.

'You gonna tell me about it?' she pressed.

'Aha. From my mom, usually when she wasn't too pleased,' he explained, kissing her cheek. 'I better get on with this.'

He watched them return to the house, leaning on his spade. _She's real beautiful, Almeida._ A moment later he frowned, noting Jarvis approach her from the direction of the grape field.

'Well hello, beautiful. You wasting time with that looser? You'd do a lot better being nice to me.' He reached forward, grabbing her. Clarissa attempted to move away, but he tightened his grip on her elbow, holding her immobile. 'What's wrong, honey? I just need a little kiss.'

'Take your hands off her,' Tony snapped, eyes flashing.

'Get back to work, Almeida!' He turned back to Clarissa, jerking her head over to his and kissed her roughly, ignoring her hands beating his back.

Tony had no memory of the next minute. He found himself beside them, pulling Jarvis back roughly. 'You sonofabitch! I told you to leave her alone,' he hissed, shaking the man.

'You'll die, Almeida,' Jarvis yelled, punching him in the jaw.

Tony's fists clenched and he punched Jarvis in the stomach, watching the man collapse in a heap at his feet. Incensed, he knelt down and punched him again, watching blood squirt from his nose.

'Tony, Tony, stop,' Clarissa screamed, pulling his arm. He shook her hand off easily and returned to his captive, hitting him again.

'Look at the bastard,' a voice cried and the five men Christianson kept for personal security leapt on him, knocking him to the ground.

Tony's foot kicked out, sending one of them sprawling. He pushed himself up, punching two of them at the same time, turning momentarily to remove the spade from a third assailant, flinging it behind him. Two blows reached him while he was undefended and he gasped, hitting them back before they could punch him again. The fourth man reached for his gun, pulling the safety. Tony managed to push his arm as he pulled the trigger, the shot penetrating the house. He kicked the man again, noting he collapsed groaning on the ground, before he punched the first man squarely on the jaw, noting he too collapsed. The second man lasted less than another two blows, going down under his savage fury, while the final man recovered enough to raise the spade and land him a crushing blow on the back. Tony sank onto the ground, unable to breathe through the pain, a shadow warning him of the spade raised again. He rolled away at the last moment and it hit the ground beside him. Trembling fingers gripped the spade and he raised it, hitting his assailant between the legs.

'Stop,' ordered an authoritative voice and he dropped the spade, too battered to try looking at Christianson. Every breath hurt and he felt something warm trickle under his shirt.

'Tony,' Clarissa exclaimed, kneeling beside him and lifting his shirt. 'You're hurt.' The terrified toddler sobbed aloud, ignored by the crowd.

'Almeida, get up,' Christianson ordered in a harsh tone. 'You're quite a fighter. Don't gimme any more crap about being a simple mechanic. You fought in some army or some rebel cause, I don't care which, but you're well trained. Can you shoot?'

Tony blinked, shocked to hear genuine interest from the man. 'Yes sir, I can,' he groaned.

'Alright, take that gun. You see that branch hanging over there. Shoot it.'

Tony crawled forward to retrieve the pistol, struggling into a kneeling position. He aimed and the small branch fell to the ground, a bullet in its thinnest part.

'Not bad,' Christianson said, impressed. 'You any good at moving targets?'

'Aha,' Tony agreed.

'Fine. See that eagle? Shoot it.'

'I don't shoot birds, Mr. Christianson,' Tony said, watching the man's cold eyes.

'You're a strange one. Alright, see that gate. It's got a crack on the top. Try hitting it.'

Tony glanced at the gate swinging in the breeze, took aim and hit the crack in the center.

'My God, that's something. You're a natural killer. You don't kill animals, Almeida, but you sure as hell killed people, I can tell! I got a job for you. You're to go with Wilson on his run tomorrow, as security man. Try anything at all, we'll kill her,' he pointed to Clarissa.

'I'll do that, but lemme tell you something now. Try anything with Clarissa, go anywhere near her, the coroner won't find enough of you to make any kind of I.D.'

'Fair enough,' Christianson agreed. 'You're to be my personal guard, Almeida, and your girlfriend gets to stay here. I don't want any of you boys near her,' he warned, and Tony turned to see them all agree reluctantly. 'Now get back to work, the lot of you. That pipe needs to be removed, I take it?'

Tony pulled his shirt off, struggling to see his back. 'Lemme wash that first,' he said, struggling to his feet.

'Ok, you may take an hour off,' Christianson agreed, waving a hand at the house. 'I got one hell of a fighter,' he said to himself, as he turned away. 'One hell of a shooter.'

_Guess you'll be pleased tonight, Jack!_ Tony allowed Clarissa to help him towards the kitchen, aware his back sported a huge cut. He allowed her to fuss over him, lay him on an old sofa and bathe his wound.

'It's quite deep, Tony. I'll put a bandage over it, but it'll hurt you for a long time.' Gentle fingers brushed his hair and she kissed him beside his wound. 'Tony, you didn't have to hit him, you know. Look what they done to you.'

He rolled over slowly, wincing. 'Ssh,' he said gently, taking her hand. 'I'm fine, you should see the others. Clarissa, if you think I'm gonna let someone grab you, you're wrong. No one's ever going near you again, ok. You don't need to worry anymore.'

'What did you tell them?' she pressed, and he was thankful she hadn't understood the previous dialogue.

'Just that they shouldn't touch you,' he replied, squeezing her hand.

She removed it indignantly. 'Tony, just because I don't speak English doesn't mean I'm stupid! What else did you tell them? What did Christianson say when you shot that gate? He appeared impressed.'

He sighed, sitting up with difficulty. 'I got a new job. I've been promoted,' he admitted quietly, aware how she would hate his new position. She watched him in silence and he sighed, pulling on his shirt. 'I'm his personal bodyguard!'

'TONY how could you?' she cried, horrified. 'That man is a scum, he's bad! Decent people don't need a bodyguard! Who do you think he's going to meet?' She glared at him while he avoided her gaze. 'Tony, they'll be like him, smugglers. They won't hesitate to kill you if they think you overheard something. Haven't you got any sense?'

'We need the money,' he explained, taking her arm to pull her closer for a kiss, but she reacted with the same fury he would have expected from his mother, shaking it off.

'Money! Money isn't everything, Tony! What would I do with all the money if they bring you back dead?' She turned away, shaking with sobs.

Startled, he drew her into his arms, ignoring his aching back. 'It's not gonna happen, I promise. Clarissa, look at me,' he ordered, tilting her head upwards. 'You were right; I was a soldier for many years. I can take care of myself. I'm going to get paid much better and we're getting out of here.' He searched her face anxiously. 'Are we still friends?' he questioned tentatively.

'We shouldn't be,' she told him, wiping fresh tears. 'This is going to end badly, I can feel it. I don't even know who you are, Tony. You're always watching him, it's almost as though you knew you'd end up here. And now you tell me you were a soldier. Whose army? Are you ever going to tell me that?'

He rubbed his face, eyes lowered. 'When we get out of here I'll tell you everything,' he promised, unwilling to lose her. 'If you still want me after that, I'll love you for the rest of our lives. But you gotta be patient right now, Clarissa. It's just not possible for me to tell you anymore while we're here.'


	11. Wrong Side Of The Law

'Hey Jack,' Tony began, speaking softly in the hut. He had managed to return there for a few minutes on the pretext of changing his blood soaked t-shirt.

'Tony are you ok?' Jack inquired, surprised at the unexpected call.

'Yeah, kinda.' He rubbed his face, breathing slowly. 'I got promoted, like you asked. I'm his personal body guard.' _That's gotta impress you, Jack!_

'Well done, Tony,' Jack told him warmly. 'Wait a minute; you sounded a little despondent this morning. How did you manage it?'

'Look Jack, with all due respects, waiting around for Division to order more stringent border control will take months! I'm NOT staying here that long.'

'What did you do?' Jack pressed, sensing a story.

Tony drew a deep breath and chewed his lip, regarding his phone with a raised eyebrow. 'You really wanna know?'

'I do. It's an order,' Jack told him, sounding a little irritated again.

'I got into a fight with a guy, and his friends came to give him a hand. I dealt with all six,' Tony admitted, unsure what his reaction would be.

'And you're still standing?' Jack teased.

'Of course. They won't for a while though,' Tony boasted. 'Thing is, Christianson came out and appeared impressed, so he asked me do some shooting.'

'Aha,' Jack said. 'Good work, Tony, though beating up his henchmen wasn't exactly the way I expected you to attract attention. Still, Hammond insisted you were the guy to send undercover and it appears he was right. Want to tell me what the original fight was about?'

_No Jack, not exactly!_ 'Nothing much, really. Someone said something and I hit him,' Tony replied, holding the cell a little further from his ear.

'Tony, we don't have time for twenty questions,' Jack snapped. 'What exactly did he say?'

Tony scratched his face, narrowing his eyes. 'He insulted a friend of mine, ok?'

'And you attacked him? Must have been some insult. You know, you're paid to watch Christianson and keep track of his activities, not to make friends!'

'Yeah,' Tony answered, throwing his cell a guilty look. 'Look Jack, I called you now coz I'm off on a run with him and another guy tonight. I'm not quite sure when I'll be back. Make certain none of the border guards search his truck or the whole mission is over.'

'Ok Tony, take care.' He promised he would and hung up, returning the phone to the attic. He rummaged through his backpack, picking out a crumpled t-shirt. For a moment he regarded it critically before deciding to change into it. Its appearance hardly mattered; he was only changing a pipe! Drawing water from the well, he rinsed the blood from his t-shirt and hung it on an ancient washing line.

Fortunately the broken pipe was already removed. Tony added a new piece and attempted to close the hole, wincing at the pain in his back. The progress was slow and he knew for certain he would fail to replace the slabs that evening. Nobody approached him as he struggled with filling the hole. _Clarissa must be real mad at you or she would've brought you a drink by now! Think hard Almeida, you'll need to cheer her up! _A terrible thought occurred to him as he shoveled more soil in the hole. _What if she's not interested in you anymore? You'll be real lonely. _Unable to continue with the nagging worry he laid the spade on the ground and set off to find her.

He found her in the kitchen making a pile of sandwiches, the bread laid out the entire length of the counter. 'You like eggs, Tony?' she asked without raising her head to look at him.

'Aha,' he said, moving over to slip his arms around her. 'Clarissa, I love you. I can't go with them tonight knowing you're mad at me.' He turned her round gently, tilting her face to look at him. 'I can't stay here much longer, pulling weeds,' he told her softly, using all his interrogation techniques to read her face. Something about the way he said his last sentence got through to her. He saw her lip tremble, and she buried her face in his chest.

'Just be careful, Tony, promise me that.'

'I will,' he told her, breathing easier. 'Don't worry; I'll only be sitting in the truck. Where does he keep his medicines?' he asked, leaning against the counter. 'I'm gonna need an entire packet if I got to go all the way to Mexico and back in that old truck.'

She opened a cupboard and handed him a packet of aspirins, watching him swallow two tablets. 'You should really have seen a doctor, Tony. Your cut is deep, it could use stitching. And a tetanus booster.'

'I'm fine,' he told her firmly, finishing the water that remained in his glass. He settled on a barstool watching her work as he waited for the painkillers to numb the throbbing in his back. 'You know, they're dangerous things, garden spades,' he told her wryly. 'I'd list them somewhere just below hunting rifles.'

She shook her head at him, wrapping each sandwich into an individual bag. 'Stay and rest till you have to go,' she begged, and he nodded. 'You're not doing well, Tony. Have you seen your face recently?'

He shook his head, aware his eye remained swollen shut. 'Do I want to?' he joked.

'You should – it might remind you to keep quiet,' she advised, sounding more like his mother than ever. 'Why are you smiling?' she pressed. 'It wasn't meant to be funny.'

He reached forward to squeeze her hand. 'It wasn't. You remind me of my mother.'

She gave him a strange look. 'Is she nice?' she asked.

He nodded. 'Sí, she's great. And you're right; I should remember where I am.'

The door was opened and Christianson beckoned to him. 'Come on Tony, we're leaving. You're to sit near the door and keep your eyes peeled for any police. Think you can manage it?'

'Yes sir,' he agreed, kissing Clarissa in a hurry. Her eyes followed him down the passage and he turned to give her an encouraging smile as he shut the door behind him.

Wilson, one of the less antagonistic thugs who surrounded the smuggler sat in the truck. He opened the door as Tony appeared and handed him a rifle once he climbed in. 'Keep that hidden,' he advised. 'We're not looking for any trouble, it's only for protection.'

Tony nodded, placing it under his seat. 'Protection against whom?' he inquired nonchalantly as he fastened his seatbelt. 'The police or border patrol?'

'Are you nuts?' Wilson cried, shocked. 'I just told you we don't want trouble. No, it's against Mr. Christianson's rivals, just in case we meet up.'

'His rivals,' Tony echoed, turning to stare at the man puzzled. 'Are we likely to run into them? Do they do the same thing he does, bring aliens in?'

'You ask too many questions. You're supposed to sit there and protect us, that's all,' Wilson told him annoyed. 'No, we're not that likely to run into them; they usually operate out of different towns. It's just that things are a little tougher now.'

'Is there a problem?' he asked, resolved to collect as much information as he could for CTU.

'We're not sure yet. Border patrol is worse than usual. It happened in the last few weeks. They search more than before, so everyone's more jumpy. Let's hope it's just an anomaly, that they'll grow tired of it and things get back to normal.'

Tony nodded, watching Christianson approaching the truck. _Looks like it's working, Jack. You're hurting their business and they're ready to fight it out between them. Keep up the squeeze._

'Let's go,' he ordered, sitting in the middle. Wilson started the truck and they bounced along the driveway. He got out at the gate and pressed a code in which Tony's sharp eyes were able to pick out. _You know the code to switch off the power and open the gate. Well done, Almeida, you'll probably need it._

The ride was uneventful as far as the border. Wilson drove steadily, clearly having driven that way several times before, and Christianson kept silent, occupying himself with a whole list of notes in a grey exercise book that Tony was unable to make out due to the angle he held it in. He assumed they contained the names of the next group of people they would pick up that evening. Nothing was expected of him as he sat by the door, gazing outside.

'Take your passport,' Christianson ordered, thrusting the brand new document into Tony's hand. 'Look sharp now; we're coming up to the border.' Tony opened his passport, surprised it had been returned. He hadn't received a stamp in it for entry into the USA after all; he was bound to be pulled up in the next few minutes. To his amazement the second page sported a stamp with an entry date placing his arrival as the day before. He stared at it mesmerized. _So you got a little help from someone at passport control too?_ _Wonder how many people are in on this scam?_ Once they drove up to the booth he stuck his new passport out of the window and waited with baited breath. CTU was counting on him getting through, the arrest of Christianson, which had become a personal mission by then, depended on it.

Fortunately the guard waved them through with a cursory examination of their documents. They all breathed easier once they began the long drive into Mexico. Tony leaned back against the seat and allowed his eyes to close, exhausted from the pain medication. He slept the next couple of hours, waking when his shoulder was shaken vigorously. 'Wake up, Almeida! I need you sharp now.'

He sat up and reached for his rifle, laying it cautiously across his knees. They drew up outside the same three star motel he had been picked up in. Wilson opened the door and jumped out, beckoning him to follow. 'Search the block,' he ordered and Tony set off, the vague order leaving him uncertain as to the nature of the threat he was expected to pick up. All appeared silent as he completed his circle, relieved to meet no police. Christianson opened the cab door and stepped out, beckoning to Wilson.

'Almeida, stay with the truck. See anything at all, come get us.'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed, propping himself against the back of the truck. The door of the motel slammed shut and he allowed himself to daydream of Clarissa, remembering how desperate their own journey had been. He prayed there would be no children among the group that night. A cool breeze blew against his warm face. Presently the door opened and Wilson returned with the first group, eight men carrying their possessions. He unlocked the back and they climbed in, noting his weapon with concern. Tony's face flushed with shame as he realized he was the cause of their unease. He chewed his lip in silence as the door opened again and another group walked out, two women and three children among them. Their faces paled at the sight of him and he was forced to turn away, cursing Christianson, Jack, Chappelle and Hammond. Once the truck was crammed as full as it could get Christianson slammed the door and climbed into the front, beckoning to his men. Wilson started her up and Tony climbed in with difficulty, reaching for his packet of painkillers.

'Where are we going?' he inquired casually hours later as Wilson left the highway leading to the border.

Christianson frowned. 'Your job is to guard me, Almeida, not to ask questions.' Tony sat in unenlightened silence, his sense of foreboding increasing as they drove onto narrower country lanes.

'Alright, open the shed,' Christianson ordered. 'Get out Almeida, guard the perimeter.' Tony climbed out in front of a large metal shed without ventilation, the surface broken only by a padlocked door. He frowned in concern as Wilson unlocked it and he was waved to the back of the truck.

'Alright, listen hard,' Christianson began, once the aliens stood before the truck with their belongings, the three children hushed by terrified parents. 'It's impossible for me to take you lot across tonight as there's way too much activity on the border. You'll have to wait here till tomorrow. Wilson, take the water inside.' Wilson took a box of bottled water inside and Christianson waved his hand indicating they should follow him. Tony watched the exhausted group stumble inside. The door was slammed on the last one and Wilson bolted it.

'What the hell are you doin'?' Tony exclaimed. 'They're gonna roast in there tomorrow.'

'They got water,' Christianson snapped. 'Get back in the truck, Almeida! We got another pick-up tonight. I'm a little behind coz of those border restrictions.'

Tony climbed reluctantly into the truck, his mind seething. _They're gonna die in there._ He paid extra close attention to the route they took to return to the highway as he was uncertain how long Christianson intended leaving them there in what, for all intents and purposes was a metal prison. To his amazement they returned to the same motel they had been at previously and repeated the same process as earlier. Once again he was forced to stand guard as the truck was filled with its human cargo. _Where the hell are we gonna dump these people? This guy is NUTS!_

Wilson slammed the truck on the last of the group and yelled at Tony to get inside. He struggled into his seat, his back hurting again. The night seemed endless as the truck reversed and drove through the silent town, along quiet roads and onto the highway. Tony's eyes closed several times and he forced them open seconds later, resolved to study the location Christianson planned to dump this group. To his relief they remained on the highway, heading straight for the border. Shortly before they approached it they turned off the highway and bounced along a rough track for several miles, coming upon an open truck with plastic crates of fish. 'Out,' Christianson snapped and he jumped to the ground and assumed his customary position at the back as Wilson unlocked it. The disheveled faces of exhausted aliens looked out at him, their eyes pleading for relief. 'Alright, people, move back. Border patrol's taken to examining vehicles nowadays, we're gonna have to load the back with fish! I don't have to tell you how important it is to be real silent.'

The crates of fish were piled near the back door, Tony gagging from the stench. He moved a little way from the back of the truck spitting salty water out, taking gulps of fresh air_. Thank God they didn't add any fish when you were in the back, Almeida! You would've died!_

'Almeida, where the hell have you disappeared to now?' Christianson called furiously.

'I'm right here sir,' he replied, taking a final gulp of clear air.

'You'll come back here right away! What the hell do you think I pay you for, sight seeing?' He pointed to the back of the truck in a no nonsense manner. 'Stay right there!'

Tony nodded, taking slow breaths, dismayed to find himself downwind of the fish truck. As Christianson arrived to inspect his truck his stomach heaved violently and he was forced to rush off unable to retain his dinner.

'Out of all the hit men I've ever employed, you got to be the most useless,' Christianson snapped unsympathetically as he struggled to climb back into the truck. 'Sure those fish stink a little, but you're a man, aren't you?'

Tony shut his eyes, aware his stomach was far from settled. 'Sorry sir.' _Thank God CTU will never get to hear about this! I'd never live it down!_

The truck started up and bounced over the potholes, gathering speed. Tony wound down his window and shut his eyes. Minutes later they reached the highway and drove rapidly towards customs, his stomach settling.

The Mexicans waved them through with a cursory examination of their papers. Just as he was about to breathe easier the booth on the American side opened and a middle aged inspector stepped out, ordering them to turn off the engine. Scowling at them, he shone his torch into the cabin. 'What's in the back?' he inquired studying them belligerently.

'Fish and oysters, sir,' Christianson told him without blinking. 'You wanna see it?'

'I sure do. Have you got an import license?'

'Yes I do.' Christianson handed over another official document while Tony watched with bated breath. It was examined by torchlight before the official nodded and returned it. 'Open the back.'

'Stay put,' Christianson ordered and he nodded; only too relieved to be spared the stench a second time. He watched them walk down the side of the truck from the side mirror and heard them opening the door. A few moments passed while he fidgeted in his seat praying the official wouldn't search the truck and blow their entire operation.

'It appears fine,' the official remarked, returning to the front. He glanced at their passports. 'Who's the greaser?'

'He works for me, cleaning the fish,' Christianson replied politely, opening a page in Tony's passport that contained a temporary work permit while Tony battled with himself to remain silent.

The official appeared unimpressed. 'I've got to check this,' he muttered. 'Get outa the truck,' he snapped at him.

'Why? Those papers are issued by your own government…' Tony began. The official's face darkened and he grabbed his shoulder, hauling him out of the vehicle. 'Shut up! Hands on the truck. Don't move or I'll cuff you!' He returned to the booth with the passport leaving him spread against the truck, his rage threatening to burst. _You'll relax this instant, Almeida. Keep silent or you'll blow the whole operation. You can file charges against him later._

'Take it easy,' Christianson warned him. 'They're just checking your work permit. It won't take long.' He was correct. Minutes later the belligerent official returned with his passport.

'Fine, you may go. Just make sure you don't overstay your welcome!' He turned to the smuggler. 'Hope you got an ice machine at home or they'll melt soon.'

'They're heading to the fish market,' Christianson assured him. 'Good evening, sir.'

Wilson started the car and they drove off slowly at first so as to avoid arousing suspicion and then more rapidly once they were out of eyesight. 'Whew,' Christianson complained. 'We were damn lucky that fish stank so bad, or he would've made us unload the first line and look further in. Don't speed, Wilson, we don't wanna get stopped by the cops.'

They returned to Christianson's property a few hours later, Tony's back aching so badly the painkillers were unable to numb it. Filled with relief he climbed out longing to wash and curl up in bed. One look at the smuggler's face changed his mind. Without being asked he collected his rifle and moved to the back of the truck. He aimed it at the open door as the aliens tumbled out, noting that he was not the only person with adverse reactions to the fish.

To his horror he caught sight of Clarissa leaning against the side of the palm tree to watch their arrival. Christianson ordered two men to help carry the boxes of fish into the kitchen. 'Might as well make use of this,' he remarked to Tony. 'We did have to pay for it after all. Tell the girlfriend to cook it with a slice of bread for these people.'

'Yes sir,' he agreed and set off towards her, his heart hammering in his throat.

'What the hell happened to you, Tony?' she snapped as he approached, eyes filled with dismay. 'What are you doing with that gun? Who are you going to shoot? Another Mexican or someone from further south?'

He shook his head, reaching for her face. 'You know me better than that.'

'I'm not that sure anymore,' she said sadly, turning away from him. 'What do they need?'

He translated Christianson's order with a heavy heart and settled under the palm tree, uncertain of his welcome in the kitchen and not daring to return to the hut. Exhausted as he was he noted the smuggler enter his office, open a cupboard and remove a piece of parquet, concealing the grey exercise book An hour later the group was herded together on the lawn and he moved over to stand behind him without needing to be called, earning his first nod of approval. The ground swayed around him as he stood in his self assigned position watching the aliens parceled out. It seemed an eternity before he was dismissed and ordered to get a little rest.

Sheer stubbornness kept him on his feet long enough to reach the hut where he took three aspirins without water and sank onto the bed groaning aloud, unsure whether the throbbing in his lower back or Clarissa's shocked face hurt him more.


	12. The Waiting Game

Gentle hands woke him in the early afternoon running along his face, tracing the shape of his bruise. 'Are you awake Tony? Will you play with me?' pleaded a young voice and he felt a smile tug the corner of his lips.

'I will. Where's your mother?' An extra sharp twinge caused him to pause leaving him leaning on his elbow. 'Ow,' he breathed.

Footsteps approached the bed and Clarissa pushed him back onto the ancient mattress. 'Keep still.'

He nodded, allowing her to pull his shirt up and examine the wound while he watched her face to gauge her emotions. She looked horrified as she ran her fingers round the injury and he was unable to keep a hiss of pain in. His lack of bravery wasn't questioned by his less than critical audience. Tears filled Clarissa's eyes which she angrily blinked away and Blanca settled beside him. 'Does it hurt very much, Tony?'

'Sí,' he told her truthfully. 'I'll get some more painkillers.' Once again he attempted to sit, pushed back before he could move more than a few inches.

'You'll stay right here, Tony. How many have you taken today?'

His brow wrinkled in his effort to remember. 'Six last night and three now.' It sounded slightly excessive to him as he spoke and she shook her head.

'That's too much. It's getting infected, that's why it's hurting you so much. I'll get you some clean water to wash it with.'

'Wait,' he begged, taking her hand. 'I need to see it. Can you find anything around here?'

In the end it was Blanca who brought him a piece of dolls house furniture with a mirror that enabled him to examine his wound. The skin round the cut was indeed puffy and swollen with a streak heading downwards. His heart rate increased as he moved towards the kitchen and found an old knife.

'Tony, what are you doing?' Clarissa cried, horrified.

'This can't be left querida,' he told her. 'Take Blanca out for a bit and I'll take care of it.'

'How can you see what you're doing?' she asked, shaking her head. 'That knife is real old too, it might not be clean.'

'I can't light a fire and sterilize it,' he told her, wishing to get his unpleasant task done with before his fear got the better of him.

Clarissa ordered Blanca outside till she was called and the child collected her few pieces of furniture and dolls and went to play on the porch. 'I'll hold the mirror for you,' she offered.

Tony glanced at her white face and shook his head. 'No, I can manage. You go out for a bit.'

She followed him back to the bed. 'I won't. I'll help you.' Her voice shook a little as she took the toy mirror. 'Tony…'

He put a finger to her lips. 'It won't take long,' he assured her, lying on his stomach and taking the knife. 'It doesn't have to be real deep, just enough to get the pus out. Turn the mirror a little more…' He lowered the knife above the pus and took a deep breath before drawing it rapidly along the area and the streak. Had he been alone he would've cursed aloud but he restrained himself as he heard her gasp and saw the mirror shaking. 'Ow ow,' he gasped, feeling the toy landing on his legs as she seized his arm.

'Oh Tony…' Hot tears wetted his shoulder as he attempted to grin at her.

'I'm fine. I just got to push the pus out now…'

'I'll do that,' she assured him. 'Tony, it'll hurt.'

He nodded grimly. 'I know.' He bit his tongue to avoid screaming as she took a clean handkerchief and squeezed the wound. She handed it to him wordless when she finished and he noted how full it was. 'Quite a bit,' he said lightly, knowing he would've given way to tears had he been alone.

Clarissa cried enough for both of them, washing the wound with clean water. 'I'll go back to the house and get some band aids,' she said, kissing his forehead. 'Don't even think of moving, Tony. You're to lie right here, do you understand?' She gave him a tear filled smile and he returned it, hope surging through him that his morning's activities were forgiven.

'Sí, senora,' he promised, earning him a tap on his leg.

Blanca returned while she was away, carrying the three toy figures from the house. 'That's a mama, a papa and a little girl. That's me,' she said, handing him the baby.

'You're much cuter, though,' he told her cheerfully. 'Is that mama?' he questioned, taking the mother doll. She nodded. 'And that's your papa,' he said, lifting the father.

He was surprised by the swift shake of her head. 'He was bad. This man is nice, he's smiling. It's you Tony.'

Tony attempted to smile at her as he examined the plastic doll. 'Is it? But my hair is a lot darker than that.'

Clarissa returned while they played house and ordered all the toys to be packed away. She carried a large saucepan and a box of band aids. 'I brought our dinner over, Tony. I don't think you'll be well enough to walk that far tonight. I'll just put these on.' He waited patiently while she stuck half the contents of the box onto him. 'Ok, I'll help you over to the table.'

He allowed her to help him over to the meals area reveling in her attention. They ate together and played with the child before Clarissa put her to bed. 'She's asleep, Tony. I wanted to talk to you about something real important before, but now I don't know whether I want to.' She looked at him sadly. 'I never thought of you as a kind of smuggler,' she sighed, leaning against him. 'I thought of you more as a soldier, and I was right, hm?' He nodded silently. 'How could you work with him, Tony? Everything he does is against us…'

Tony ran his hand through her hair, resolved to make things right between them. 'Querida, I'm no smuggler, and I'm not on his side in any of this. You gotta trust me.'

'But you pointed your gun at those poor people,' she muttered.

'Sí, I had to point it that way, but it doesn't mean I had to shoot that way. You think I'd ever hurt an innocent?' The words were out before he could withdraw them and she leaned forward, searching his face.

'What are you saying, Tony? Would you shoot Christianson? That would be murder; they'd search for you and hang you…'

He pulled her closer, her heart racing against his own. 'No, there's only one reason I'd ever shoot anyone here, and that's if they laid a finger on you.' They sat together in silence, her fingers stroking his hair until he shifted slightly and winced.

'You're in pain, Tony. We should lie down now,' she suggested and he nodded, allowing her to help him up. He lay on his stomach listening to her breathing until he felt sure she was asleep before he rolled carefully off the bed and reached for his cell.

'Hey Jack,' he said softly as it was still early enough for potential movement.

'Tony, did you get to Mexico? How did it go?' Jack inquired, obviously in the middle of eating his dinner.

'We went over to Mexico alright and that bastard got not one but two loads of people. Listen Jack, border patrol's tactics are starting to work, they're under pressure. There's one problem though.'

'I'm listening,' Jack told him more clearly, obviously having swallowed his mouthful.

'We left one load in Mexico locked inside some metal shed. It happened early last night and they've been there all day, and Christianson hasn't even told me when we're going back yet. I estimate they had around half a bottle of drinking water between them and no food. You got to call the Mexican police and let them out…'

'Tony, wait a sec,' Jack began, his tone thoughtful. 'That might not be the best play. From what you told me they're not in any immediate danger for another day or so. Give Christianson a little time to return, we can't risk your cover blown.'

'Jack, there were a coupla kids!' Tony snapped outraged. 'How long you planning on leaving them there?'

'Another day,' Jack said. 'If he doesn't return anytime tomorrow I'll get Mexican Intelligence to release them. They'll be okay until then.'

'Where are you Tony? Is your back hurting you? Is that a real phone?' called a small voice.

'Tony, who the hell's that?' Jack snapped, shocked.

'No one,' Tony replied rapidly. 'Just a little kid. You won't leave the group longer than a day, will you?'

'I won't. They'll be okay, trust me.'

'I sure hope so,' Tony muttered darkly. 'The place didn't even have any windows!' He hung up dissatisfied with his failure to get assistance for the group and uncertain if Jack's insistence on waiting was advisable or unnecessary. There was no chance of him settling down to sleep now, that was certain. He took Blanca's hand and tilted her chin up. 'I was calling a friend of mine, princess. I'm a little lonely. Listen, how about we keep my phone a secret, ok?'

'Ok,' she agreed, slipping her hand tighter into his. He led her back to bed and settled down himself, waiting till she fell asleep before hiding his cell.

To his dismay Christianson appeared busy with paperwork the following day and he was sent back to work outdoors. He spent the day picking oranges - filling baskets with them until he would carry them back to the truck and tip them into wooden crates. His back protested but didn't throb and he survived the day with a few painkillers. _Are we going to collect the aliens tonight, Christianson? You're surely not planning on leaving them there another day?_

Despite Clarissa having made tacos for the three of them he found it hard to eat, his mind on the stranded passengers. She must have noted his mood for she cast him several concerned glances. 'What's wrong, Tony?' she questioned eventually.

He attempted to smile at her but seethed inside, unable to resist questioning Christianson as he returned for dinner. 'We going over for those people tonight, sir?' he inquired nonchalantly.

The smuggler glared at him. 'We'll go when I say so and not before. It's not safe tonight.' He left Tony unenlightened as to what was wrong with that particular night, telling him to get some sleep as he had a long day ahead of him, the oranges needing picking.

Tony took the phone once the hut was silent and called CTU, determined to hold Jack to his word to rescue the aliens. To his dismay he was put through to Ryan Chappelle instead. 'Tony, good to hear from you,' he began in his nasally voice. 'What have you got to tell us?'

'It was a quiet day sir,' Tony told him hesitantly. 'Is Jack around?'

'No, Bauer's away on a case for the following two days. It's imperative that you avoid calling him. I'm dealing with CTU in his absence. Is there anything further?'

Tony drew a deep breath. 'Yes sir, there is. I went over to Mexico two nights ago and we left a load of aliens locked inside a metal shed. Jack said he'd call Mexican intelligence about them if we didn't go back for them tonight. We're not going back, sir. As far as I'm aware we're not planning to return tomorrow either. They're gonna need to be rescued. They've already been there two days.'

Chappelle's breath was clearly audible down the line. 'Tony, you're not seeing the wider picture,' he said, each word grating on his nerves. 'We're in the middle of a real detailed investigation and I cannot afford anything to jeopardize it. They can sit tight another day.'

'With all due respect, sir, I disagree,' Tony protested. 'There were a coupla young kids in the group. They might not survive tomorrow in that shed with no food or water. It's bound to get hot as hell inside…'

'Thank you Tony, I can well imagine,' Chappelle interrupted. 'They'll be fine. Goodnight.'

'Sir, wait a minute. Are you saying you'll get them out tomorrow night if we fail to go get them?' Tony demanded, his nervousness at speaking to Chappelle forgotten due to his anxiety.

'Possibly. Just keep your eyes peeled and let us know the moment any kind of group will gather.' Chappelle hung up leaving him staring at his cell.

'Dammit! Why won't you listen to me? How the hell do you know they'll be alright another day?' He paused, running the words through his head. _Are you even going to pull them out if we don't get them tomorrow?_

He spent the night tossing and turning, waking Clarissa who studied him in silence. 'What's wrong Tony? What happened on your trip?' Once again he reassured her but she obviously failed to believe him.

Sweat poured from him the following day as he picked the remaining oranges, the sun burning him through his t-shirt. He shuddered whenever he thought of the group in the tin shed, resolved to speak firmly to Chappelle that night. He ate dinner with Clarissa and Blanca in the kitchen wearily and forced himself to drink several glasses of water aware he must be dehydrated. If he was, how much more so were they?

'Sir, what do I do tomorrow?' Tony asked, knocking politely on the smuggler's office. _Please tell me we're going over to Mexico tomorrow._

'You do some more work tomorrow, Almeida. On Thursday we're heading into LA, I'll need you with me.'

'Is anyone gonna get those people we left in the shed?' he asked.

Christianson stared at him. 'What concern is that of yours, Almeida? No, they're staying another day or so, it's not safe to attempt to cross yet. They'll be fine.'

'Sir, the young children might not be,' Tony told him as calmly as he could.

'Those kids are unimportant. Don't worry too much; the adults usually give them a little more water. Are all the oranges picked?'

'Yes sir,' Tony replied, his fists clenched behind him.

'Good work. Get some sleep; I'll need you to pick mandarins tomorrow!'

Tony left the office fuming. _Bastard's more concerned about his oranges than the life of those people! _He returned to the hut by himself pleading exhaustion and grabbed his cell, determined to speak to Chappelle while Clarissa tidied up after dinner.

Chappelle proved unmovable once again. 'Almeida, I've already explained the delicacy of this mission. If I call Mexican Intelligence to rescue those people it'll alert the smugglers and we've blown our entire operation. I'm certain he'll return for them as soon as possible, he does profit from them from what you've told us.'

'Sir, those kids will die and so will any of the adults that might not be completely healthy,' Tony snapped. 'I don't see how it would affect our mission if they got rescued. Mexican Intelligence does occasionally stumble across…'

'Have you finished?' Chappelle asked icily. 'Settle down at once, Almeida. I just gave you my decision. I'm aware of the problem. Your job is to follow Christianson and alert us to his movements, that's all. Forget everything else, that's an order!'

'Sir, I've been in a similar position once in Arabia. We were captured by some militants and locked in a similar shed and abandoned. We got rescued in three days and some of us were pretty close to death by then and we were all trained Marines. These people…'

'That's quite enough, Almeida,' Chappelle hissed. 'I'm going to give you a single warning. You will follow your orders and forget everything else. Have I made myself absolutely clear?'

'Yes sir.' Tony had to force each syllable out in his rage. Chappelle hung up and he sank onto the dry grass, his eyes on the setting sun. Memories of the worst experience in his life flooded him, from being handed an impossible task to being captured and interrogated, beaten soundly for his refusal to divulge any of his orders and locked inside a shed with his men_. "We'll let you out when your lieutenant decides to talk," one of their captors informed them as they sat together on the concrete floor. "When you get thirsty, just tell him. Lieutenant Almeida, knock on the door when you're ready to talk or you'll watch all your men die." What he wouldn't have given for a drink as he lay on the floor beside his men, all distinctions abandoned as they had removed their uniforms. He had noticed their unspoken pleading by the third day, deeply moved that none of them placed any blame on him. "Sir, the sergeant is dying," one of his men informed him and he attempted to rise, distressed that his worst fears were being realized. His sergeant was indeed close to death and a few of his men were not far behind. "Hang in there, Koskinen, I'll get us out of here." The man had shaken his head but he'd ignored him, banging on the door. "I'm ready to talk now, you bastards! Give my men water!" They had been handed a bottle of water each and he ordered them to swallow it slowly, drinking his own before he was hauled out. The questioning had begun in earnest, revolving around his orders to hunt down the group and the amount of information the Americans had about them. He sat on a cold stone floor and told them the story desperation helped him concoct; aware he would be murdered by the evening as they discovered it to be untrue. He was dragged back into the shed and the door slammed on him as they began checking his information and his men stared at him in disgust. "They're gonna find out I told them shit real soon," he said softly, unwilling to be murdered without their support. "You guys should be rescued real soon. They haven't stopped looking for us." He had whispered a prayer aloud in Spanish as the door was unlocked that evening and his name was called. He'd ordered his men to remain seated and stumbled to the door, living through the worst beating he'd ever experienced. They were rescued as he screamed out yet another fabrication…_

Tony's fists were clenched so tight his nails drew blood as he stared at the setting sun. Making a decision he reached for the cell and dialed the number he had committed to memory at the start of the mission, calling Mexican Intelligence to beg them to release the group. He managed to pull himself together long enough to return the phone to its hiding place before rushing outside. _You've just lost your job, Almeida_. He hung his head, twirling a piece of dry grass in his fingers. _You might even end up in jail if Chappelle decides to prosecute you. This mission better not be affected by your actions!_


	13. The Capture

Clarissa held him in her arms on the ancient blanket he had carried outdoors. He slipped an arm around her and shut his eyes, reveling in the feeling of her lips on his face. 'You can't tell me anything, can you?' she asked, tracing the outline of his black eye with a finger.

Tony shook his head grimly. Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed at the stars twinkling directly above him, filled with a strong urge to leave the farm behind and run as far as he could from the smugglers, the aliens and CTU. _You chose to disobey Chappelle. Nobody made you do it. Once this is over you'll face the consequences. He'll let you know what those will be when you speak to him tonight!_ He exhaled slowly, aware there was no place for him to run.

'I'll help you,' she said softly, squeezing his hand. 'You don't have to do it all alone, Tony. Let me help.'

He turned to face her, sliding his hand under her chin. 'You already are querida. When I come back here I got someone waiting for me.' He took her hand and drew it to his lips. 'You don't know how much that means to me.'

Her smile told him that she did. 'I won't ask who you were calling last night,' she told him, watching his eyes open wide. 'You won't tell me anyway. Are you some kind of international terrorist? Or are you a policeman? It's got to be one or the other.'

He shook his head, shocked at how close she came to the truth. 'No,' he whispered.

'So I'll have to think some more,' she teased, running her fingers through his hair. 'You're a detective from Mexico or some other Spanish country chasing a criminal. When you find him you'll take him back.' She leaned over him, resting on an elbow. 'Can't you let bygones be bygones, Tony? Everyone deserves a second chance.'

'No,' he told her again. 'I'm not looking for any of the migrants, I swear. Clarissa, we all got our secrets – you gotta respect mine.' She sighed in frustration. Holding her hand he rose, pulling her up with him. 'We should get some sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day.'

'What makes you so certain?' she asked, following him over to the house.

He shrugged. 'I just got a bad feeling, that's all. Listen sweetheart, I want you and Blanca to finish up real quick in the kitchen tomorrow and get back here. Don't go anywhere else, ok.' She looked at him startled. 'Do it for me, please.' She nodded uneasily.

Tony's instincts proved as acute as they had in the marines. Hardly had they settled on the barstools for breakfast the following morning when Christianson stormed in, eyes flashing. 'Almeida, I'll be needing you today. Finish up and get into that truck!' He stormed out, slamming the door so hard it shook. Blanca burst into terrified tears, clinging to him.

'Princess, he's not mad at me,' Tony assured her, pulling her onto his knee. 'One of his deals just went a little wrong,' he said gently, his eyes on the counter.

'You knew it would,' Clarissa whispered in his ear. 'What did you do, Tony?' She gripped his arm tightly. Had he wanted to, he could easily have broken free but it was going to be a pivotal day and he needed her to remain alert.

'On our last run, we picked up two groups. He locked one of them inside a shed and refused to go back for them.'

'My God! Tony, they'll die in there.'

He shook his head. 'I called the Mexican police, anonymously, don't you worry. Something tells me they found those people. I need you to stay close to the house today, ok?'

She nodded, trembling. 'If he ever finds out, he'll kill you.'

'That's hardly my worst problem right now, sweetheart,' he whispered back, hugging her and Blanca tightly to him. 'I gotta go.'

'This wasn't what I wanted when I chose to come here, Tony. We were going to my brother in Boston.'

'And you will,' he assured her, meeting her eyes as he left the kitchen. Mayhem met him on the porch. Half a dozen armed men huddled in a group, Wilson tossing his rifle to him. Tony caught it easily and checked the magazine, unsurprised to find it full. Listening carefully to the muttered comments around him he pieced together their destination. They were heading into LA to protect Christianson at a meeting. Tony swallowed; certain he should call CTU but was prevented from doing so by the assembled crowd. The house was swarming with armed men, a few of whom he had never seen before. The door opened again and Christianson leapt into a red Ferrari, indicating Tony should climb in beside him.

Tony settled into the passenger seat fingering his rifle and gazed forward silently, forcing his curiosity aside. Something was going down and the smuggler was highly agitated, it would be suicidal to provoke him. 'Looks like you got you wish, Almeida,' he began as they joined the highway. 'Mexican police raided our shed and freed the group. One woman was dead, four are in hospital and they're hunting for us.'

Tony's eyes moved to follow him while his head remained straight ahead. 'You know anyone there, who can help stop this investigation?' he asked casually.

'I do, or else we'd be in jail by now! Someone tipped them off. It's just too much of a coincidence, border guards alert and Mexican police doing their jobs! I'm going to discuss this with a few others. I'm gonna need you totally alert, Tony. They'll be armed, and there's not exactly any love lost between us. Anyone at all pulls a gun on me, shoot him, do you understand?'

'I understand,' he agreed. 'It's like a meeting of gangsters, right?'

'Right,' Christianson agreed frowning at him. 'Try anything at all…'

'You don't have to threaten Clarissa, Mr. Christianson. I work much better if I get promised a reward rather than threatened. I still owe you 10 000 dollars. Forget a little of that and I'll shoot whoever you point to.'

Christianson stared at him openly as the car raced ahead. 'I don't usually work that way, Almeida, but you're a born shooter. I might even make an exception for you.'

The drive into LA was silent, the air thick with the tension between them. Two cars followed them as they drove down the highway in a convoy, keeping together through the heavy city traffic. Tony fingered his rifle as he watched their route, attempting to guess where they were heading.

Their destination proved to be a nondescript warehouse identical to a dozen others. Christianson opened the door of the car and waved him out and he moved in front of the smuggler while Wilson and a few other men surrounded him. An armed man awaited them before a half open door. 'King said only one guy,' he warned, blocking their entry. 'You pick. The rest gotta wait outside.'

Christianson nodded, his acceptance of the rules leading Tony to suspect this wasn't the first meeting between the group. 'Wilson, you come with me. The rest of you fan out. Clark, you watch the perimeter for cops. Almeida, get round the other side of the building. Keep your eyes peeled for any further arrivals. You see any armed men or any cops you're to take them out, is that clear?'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed, relieved to be positioned in a secluded spot where he would have a chance to observe events. He watched the men walk in, followed a few minutes later by an unknown pair of thugs. 'Who're they?' he inquired casually.

'Another rival. Don't worry about them. Get back to your post.'

Tony nodded and returned to the side of the warehouse. All was silent in the narrow alley that ran the length of the building and the fence. He peered behind a few bins to make certain all was clear before he leaned against the wall and considered his next actions. _It would sure help if you'd know the number of hostiles inside, Almeida._ His eyes rested on a narrow door and he took a deep breath as he walked over to it and tried it. As expected it was locked and the keyhole proved blocked. _It's time, Almeida. They're all together at a meeting and you've no way of predicting how long that'll last, so get a phone now!_

Tony strode to front of the alley noting Clark patrolling the entire area_. No good, Almeida. He'll notice you and there'll be a shootout, alerting the entire neighborhood. Try the back._ He retraced his steps and peered cautiously round the rear of the building, dismayed to count three separate gangsters. _Dammit. You won't make it past that lot either_. Lacking any viable alternative he moved over to the eight foot brick fence and examined the barbed wire before he dragged a bin over and pulled himself up. He paused a moment to steel himself before he removed his shirt, placing it over the wire to protect his hands from being shredded as he climbed over it. The shirt offered only minimal protection. Tony landed on the sidewalk covered with blood in front of a shocked middle aged man. 'I need to borrow your cell,' he said, hoping not to horrify the civilian. 'It's a local call.'

'No way! Bloody thief, I'm calling the cops, oh shit,' he gasped as Tony withdrew his rifle. 'Take it. It's yours!'

Tony snatched the phone and dialed CTU as rapidly as his bleeding fingers would move, praying he would be connected directly. 'Bauer,' said a familiar voice and Tony gasped in relief.

'Jack, it's going down right now. I couldn't call you any sooner. They're at a warehouse on, hang a minute,' he hurried over to a street sign, 'on Wallis. I don't know how many guys there are, but there's at least four. They're heavily armed.'

'Good work Tony, I'm on my way. Stay there,' Jack ordered and ended the call. Tony looked round for the owner of the phone but he had fled the scene. He wiped his hands in his trousers and slid his arms into his ripped shirt, leaning against a wall to examine his palms They proved badly lacerated, the left hand sporting a deep gash that would require stitching.

'Tony, they still inside?' Jack questioned minutes later, hurrying over to him with agent Baker. 'What happened to your hands?'

'They're all in there and haven't missed me yet. There's a back door just across that fence but it's locked.'

'Okay, the SWAT team will move inside. I want you to wait here to help with identification. Get those hands seen to,' he ordered and moved away to speak to Agent Baker. Tony watched them discuss the situation for a few tense minutes before the members of the SWAT team were stationed round the warehouse and car park, took out the thugs on duty and shot the doors open. Remembering Jack's instructions he walked over to CTU's medic.

'Hi Cindy.' He glanced at her nervously as he held out his hands. 'Jack said you should take a look at them.' Eyes fixed on the nearest wall he chewed his lip, waiting for her verdict. If he was honest, he respected the cheerful golden haired young woman more than he respected all Division bosses together. Those men could make his life miserable, but Cindy was the one who could (and did) order him to sit still and roll up his sleeve, explaining with perverse delight why yet another tetanus booster was imperative.

'Tony that's bad,' she said after a few moments of uncharacteristic silence. 'I'll clean them up but you'll have to get that stitched back at CTU. I'll give you something for the pain. It won't hurt,' she added automatically, reaching for a syringe. 'Keep still!'

Tony rolled his eyes, masking his fear behind a wise comment. 'Do I get a candy if I'm good?'

'You might,' she replied to his amazement, rolling up his sleeve. 'How's undercover work?'

'You don't wanna go there,' he assured her, wincing as the needle stung his flesh_. What's your problem, Almeida? You've been hurt real bad dozens of times and you panic at the sight of a needle! She'll notice it in a minute._ 'So where's my candy?' he inquired cheekily, holding out his less injured hand.

She returned his grin and opened the car door, fumbling inside the glove box. 'That hand's covered in blood, Tony. Open your mouth,' she teased and dropped a jelly inside. 'Now I'm gonna clean those hands.'

Tony sucked the candy in amusement. He had missed the coffees they had shared together in the mornings at CTU and her merciless teasing. He knew he would have asked her out had she not been involved with an agent from District. 'So what's new at CTU?' he inquired casually.

She shook her head. 'It's the same as usual. Actually, now that I think about it, it's been a little quieter.' She threw him a meaningful look.

'You're missing my analysis of every order we receive,' he guessed, grinning.

'That must be it! When Jack calls us together and tells us what we're doing, people just go and get started! Hold still Tony, I'm nearly done.'

'I got to get back real soon then,' he told her seriously, watching her answering smile out of the corner of his eyes. Another movement behind her caught his attention. In one fluid movement he pushed her to the ground, whipped out his gun and shot an escaped smuggler who had aimed his gun in their direction neatly in the thigh. 'It's okay now,' he assured her, walking cautiously over to his attacker. 'He needs your attention.'

Cindy knelt down beside the fallen man and examined him rapidly. 'Tony call an ambulance,' she instructed and he hurried to obey. _You've actually impressed her Almeida, with something other than a wise comment!_

'Tony, what happened?' Jack demanded moments later as he left the building with a group of handcuffed smugglers.

'You missed one,' he explained seriously. 'What do you want me to do now? I've finished this mission. I must be due some leave.'

'Right after we identify all the smugglers. I need you just a bit longer,' Jack told him.

_Clarissa will panic if you're not back soon, Almeida_. 'I'll be there in an hour,' he told Jack. 'Right now I got to take care of something that I couldn't do while I was undercover.'

'It'll have to wait. I want you back at CTU right away. That's an order, Tony,' Jack insisted. He laid a hand on Tony's shoulder. 'Those hands need a few stitches. You'll ride with me. How long was this meeting expected to last?'

'A coupla hours,' he replied, determined to return to the farm before the police. 'We gonna take everyone back to CTU?' he inquired. 'We got way too many suspects.'

'No, Mr. Chappelle wanted the ringleaders sent over to Division,' Jack sighed. 'We get to question the small fry. It was his mission after all,' he concluded.

'Mr. Chappelle's gonna interrogate Christianson?' Tony asked uneasily. He chewed his lip in silent worry, aware he would have no idea when the farm would be raided.

Jack glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. 'You got anything to tell me, Tony?'

_He's giving you an opportunity to confess!_ He shook his head. 'No.'

Jack changed gear and the car gathered speed, racing through an amber light. 'You sure, Tony? Someone called in the same location you were worried about to the Mexican police. I'm guessing it was you.'

Tony's face paled. He had forgotten about the incident as the day's events had overtaken him. _Focus Almeida. You've got to return for Clarissa before Chappelle deals with you._ He glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eyes. 'They needed help. Someone already died.'

'Mr. Chappelle wants to speak to you about it,' Jack told him. 'I think I better be present at that meeting myself. He can charge you with insubordination.'

Tony chewed his upper lip, nodding slowly. 'I know.'

They pulled into Jack's spot at CTU. 'Get those hands fixed in medical and then I want to see you in my office,' Jack ordered, hurrying down the corridor towards the holding rooms.

Tony entered medical hesitantly, marshaled over to an examining table by Cindy. The doctor entered and examined his palms, agreeing with her assessment. He ordered Tony to lie still and set to work stitching the deepest two gashes. Twenty minutes later he laid the needle down. 'Your hands are done. Try to avoid using them for the next few days. You've been undercover, right?' Tony nodded. 'Okay, I'll give you a standard physical.'

'Sir, I'm kinda needed for debriefing,' Tony protested. Cindy moved to help him unbutton his shirt while the doctor pulled out his stethoscope_. Nice to see they pay such attention to you, Almeida! _He found himself sitting in his boxer shorts on the examining table, aware he would be there far too long. Time was running out if he had a hope of removing Clarissa before the raid he was certain Chappelle would authorize.

'What happened to your back?' the doctor questioned, running his finger along the healing scar.

'It got cut and infected so I had to cut it open to remove a little pus,' Tony replied, glancing unhappily at his watch. With the look the doctor had just given him, he would be kept there for hours.

'That should have been treated immediately,' the doctor exclaimed. 'I might need to stitch this area,' he laid his finger beside the only part of the cut that still hurt him, 'as it's rather deep. I'll write you up a course of antibiotics to take…'

'Doctor, I've had a rough coupla days,' Tony began, in his most persuasive tone. 'I'd be real grateful if I could just lie down for a short while, my head's kinda spinning from all those painkillers.'

The doctor nodded. 'I was just about to suggest it myself,' he agreed, helping Tony off the table. 'Go through to the other room and lie down. I'll give you those extra stitches in a little while.'

'I'll let you know when Jack needs you,' Cindy told him and he nodded gratefully. He walked into the second room, drew the blinds and lay onto a comfortable bed, feeling his eyes shut.

_Oh no you don't, Almeida! Sure they pumped you full of enough stuff to make you sleep for a week or so, but you're not done yet. You gotta get outa here_. He forced himself to lie still while Cindy entered the room and tucked him up. After a few minutes she left medical together with the doctor. Tony rose and peered cautiously into the surgery to make certain it was clear before he crossed it and opened the door to the deserted hall. He slipped across it into Tech One and signed out a car, creeping cautiously down the hall to the back door. 'I ordered a car.'

'Yes sir,' a security guard agreed, handing him a key. 'You'll find it in the second row.'

Tony thanked him and hurried over to it, turning it on as fast as he could. He drove over to the security checkpoint at the gate and was waved through. _Hurry, Almeida. Chappelle will have that place crawling with police by now and they'll arrest Clarissa_. He reached for the cell phone he had taken from the civilian and called his hidden phone in the hut, praying she would be there. _Come on Clarissa, answer the phone!_

'Hello,' she said uncertainly the second time he rang.

'Clarissa, it's me,' he told her urgently. 'Listen carefully. I need you to get your stuff and take Blanca out to the orange grove. There's a coupla empty boxes on the path. Hide in one of them. I'm on my way.'

'What's going on, Tony?' she asked nervously.

'Just go, okay. The whole place will be crawling with police real soon. I'm coming for you.' He hung up, praying he would make it on time.


	14. Facing The Consequences

It appeared as though every vehicle registered in LA and a great many others were all on the road that afternoon. Tony raced though a light that had turned amber a while ago, a camera catching the car's number plate as he crossed in red. Directly in front of him a second light showed red. Chewing his lip he drove onto the sidewalk past the three cars before him and turned right into an even thicker stream of traffic. A few justifiably irritated drivers honked their horns at him and one swore into his open window. _Yeah, you're absolutely right, that was highly illegal, but there's no need to insult mom!_ He pushed past the outraged driver and forced himself into another lane, changing minutes later as he noticed a gap further ahead. Occasionally he glanced at his watch. _Dammit, it's too late!_

Tony drove as fast as the car would go on the highway without sparing a thought for what any police would say if they caught him. Fortunately there appeared none around and he made it to the turn off sweating slightly. Slowing the car he approached the farm, sensing he was being watched. Without slowing any further he drove past before he parked the car in a ditch on the side of the road and slipped over to the orange grove. He prayed the agents had disabled the electric fence as he threw a handful of earth at it. It failed to hiss. Breathing easier he climbed the wall and peered over, noting the absence of any movement. Tony lifted his feet over the wires and jumped noiselessly to the ground. It appeared his arrival remained undetected. He made his way through the trees and over to the empty crates. Praying silently he lifted them, discovering his friends huddled together inside the second one.

'Tony, I thought you weren't coming,' Clarissa cried, wiping tears of relief from her face. 'What's going on?'

'I'm gonna take you two to my car,' he told her, lifting Blanca into his arms. 'We gotta go now. You need to be real quiet, ok?' His eyes met the child's and she nodded in terror. 'It's ok princess, nobody's gonna hurt you,' he assured her, his heart aching for her.

'I brought my house,' Blanca whispered, pointing to it. 'Can we bring it?' Her eyes looked older than her three years as she struggled with the possibility of losing her only toy.

'Sure we can,' Tony assured her, carrying it by its handle with the two fingers he was able to move on his left hand. 'Let's go.' He led the way over to the fence, halting them inside the line of trees. 'Stay here a minute, I'll just make sure it's clear.' He made a circuit of the trees, satisfied they were alone. 'I'll lift you up first,' he told Clarissa, pushing her onto the fence. 'Okay, here's your stuff. Throw it down and I'll pass Blanca.' He handed the silent toddler to her before pulling himself up beside them. Noiselessly he jumped to the ground, nodding at her. 'Hand her down.' Once they were all on the ground he lifted the toddler and their bag and hurried them over to the ditch in the road where he had parked. 'Get inside and stay down.' He started the car and drove out of the ditch, turning to rejoin the highway.

'Where are we going, Tony?' Clarissa asked as they gathered speed. 'You got to tell me what's happening now.'

'I'm taking you someplace safe till I can get you the tickets to Boston,' he told her. 'I'll explain later, I promise.' She looked at him clearly dissatisfied but remained silent on the drive back into LA. Tony kept to the speed limit as he drove to his sister's house and parked on the driveway. 'Come on,' he said, lifting the child. He hurried over to the door and searched for the spare key that was always kept inside the meter box. Glancing round the deserted street he unlocked it, disarmed the security and led them inside. 'It's okay, there's no one home.'

'Whose house is this?' Clarissa demanded as he led them into a family room. 'You got to tell me now, Tony.'

Tony nodded; aware he couldn't put off his task any longer. 'Sit down.' He opened the fridge and poured them some juice, taking Blanca into his arms. 'See that box over there, princess. Go see what's inside.' She hurried off, exclaiming in excitement as she withdrew a pile of toys. Waiting until she was completely absorbed, he settled beside Clarissa.

'I'm American,' he began softly. She stared at him shocked. He waited a moment but she remained silent so he drew a deep breath. 'I'm a Federal Agent – I was sent undercover to gather information on Christianson and discover the names of his fellow smugglers. He was the only major player we knew about. They held an important meeting today and we were able to pick them up.' He glanced at her, dismayed to see her face turn red.

'Is your name even Tony?' she hissed.

'Sí, and my grandfather's Mexican. I spent lots of time there with him.'

'So how could you sell us all out?' she questioned, her eyes flashing. 'You sell your own kind…'

'I didn't sell anyone out,' he insisted, aware they had arrived at the crucial point in the discussion. 'We're only interested in the smugglers. I'm not gonna be asked about any of you.'

'You're "not gonna be asked about any of you"' she echoed, louder. 'So you finally let me know where you stand, Tony Almeida! You're a rich American, and you're worse than the rest of them. You think those police are going to ignore all those people? You know they'll all be deported by tonight, that's why you came back for us. Don't lie to me,' she snapped as he opened his mouth. 'You don't give a damn about any of those people we came out with.'

'Clarissa, that's not true,' he said softly, attempting to take her hand. 'I did call in the location of the stranded group yesterday. We were out to stop the smugglers only. You gotta admit the way they transport people is dangerous. And they're using you as slave labor, that's wrong.'

'What you done is worse,' she snapped, getting up to move over to the door. He followed her, searching for a way to help her understand. 'Say whatever you like, Tony, but you sold us out! People are going to be deported because of you. So what do you plan on doing with us?' she cried suddenly. 'You going to turn us over to la migra?'

He shook his head. 'Would I have returned for you if I planned on doing that? I'm gonna get you on the flight to Boston tonight.'

'How kind! And how do you plan on paying for the tickets. I haven't got any money.'

'I'll get them,' he assured her. 'I need you to stay here today, it's quite safe. This is my sister's house and she's in Chicago at the moment. I'll send someone to take you to the airport if I can't make it back.' He reached for her hand again. 'Clarissa, I know this is real hard to understand right now, but I love you. I'll come join you in a coupla weeks.'

'No, you won't,' she said, backing away from him. 'You're a bastard, Tony. You're worse than the gringos – you're their lapdog! I thought you were some detective after one migrant, but you're worse than that. You're after every one of us! Leave us alone, ok. Don't ever come near us again.' She backed further and he reached in vain for her arm, dismayed at her rage.

'Querida…'

Clarissa reached forward, slapping him hard across the face. 'Leave me alone, Tony. Just go,' she hissed and turned away.

Tony nodded slowly, resisting the urge to rub his burning cheek. 'Ok. Like I said, you're quite safe here. Stay put until I deliver the tickets.' He turned and left the house, striding across the driveway to the car. Eyes filled with tears of regret, he took the cell phone and dialed his sister, begging her to buy two tickets for the evening flight to Boston with her credit card to be collected at the check-in counter. He promised to pay her back as soon as he could and returned to his apartment, grabbing an envelope from deep within his mattress. Once it was secured in his jacket he returned to CTU, steeling himself for the consequences of his actions.

'Where the hell have you been?' Jack demanded as he knocked hesitantly on his office door. 'Shut that door. Sit down!'

Tony sank into the chair he was pointed to sick at heart. 'Chappelle's looking for you. He's been looking for you for over half an hour. You better start talking to me right away! I want to know everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, Tony!'

Tony looked into the smoldering eyes and sighed inwardly. _Looks like the whole world is mad at you today, Almeida! _'I told you I had to take care of something,' he said quietly, meeting the eyes of his annoyed boss.

'You've been back to the farm,' Jack stated, searching his impassive face. 'I'm guessing you returned for one reason only, Tony, to get some people out.' He glared at the younger agent, noticing a flicker in his steady brown eyes. 'Don't bother to deny it.'

'Fine, I won't. Those people went through hell to come here, and they're not the primary targets. I'm not prepared to watch them rounded up like so many criminals just because they're held as slaves by that bastard. That good enough for you, Jack?' Fists clenched behind his back he awaited his sentence.

Jack shook his head slowly. 'You violated the first rule of undercover operations, Tony. You don't get involved with the misfortune of innocents you encounter - ever. When I called you I heard a child's voice. I'm guessing you returned for it and it's family.' Blue eyes met brown ones and locked together.

'You don't need her for anything, Jack,' Tony said after a long silence.

'You realize what would happen to you if Chappelle ever found out you returned for some aliens?' Jack asked.

'I can take a guess,' Tony assured him. 'He'd fire me.'

'He'd have you arrested,' Jack stated unemotionally. 'You're a federal agent, Tony.'

Tony nodded. 'Yeah.' He placed his hands on the desk, palms upright. 'I understand.'

Jack's brow wrinkled in confusion. 'What are you doing?' he asked before understanding dawned. 'I'm not arresting you, Tony. You completed your mission successfully. Chappelle tells me we rounded up the entire ring of key players. If a handful of aliens working on the farms managed to evade the police it's nothing to do with CTU.'

Tony glanced at him to gauge his displeasure, startled to discover his boss's face lacked any hint of irritation. Swallowing he returned his hands to his lap. 'Thanks, Jack.'

'You've still got to see Chappelle over at Division,' Jack told him. 'Like I said, he's been expecting you. Of course he understood that the anesthetic knocked you out for a while, but he's determined to debrief you personally. I suggest you remember where you are.'

Tony nodded and rose. 'Thanks for covering for me, Jack,' he said as he turned to leave. 'Guess I'm no good at undercover work.'

'You done great,' Jack assured him to his amazement. 'Now get over to Division, debrief and come back here. The doctor tells me you need a few more stitches.'

Tony nodded wordless and left the office, debating silently which of the following activities he dreaded more. He collected the same car he had driven to the farm in and drove slowly to Division, rehearsing what he planned to say. He resolved to remain silent about calling the Mexican police if it was at all possible.

An agent led him into a holding room and asked him to wait for a few minutes. He nodded uneasily and tried to concentrate on anticipating the events he would be questioned about. Only Jack was aware of the existence of Clarissa and he had promised to remain silent about the incident, so he only had to worry about his phone call. Tony straightened as the door opened and Chappelle entered.

'Afternoon, Tony,' he began in his nasally voice. He laid a tape recorder on the table between them.

'Mr. Chappelle,' Tony said.

'Glad to see the anesthetic has worn off and we're able to conduct this debriefing. As you're aware, protocol states a returning undercover agent has to provide a detailed analysis of the entire mission,' Chappelle droned on. 'Normally I'd start at the beginning of the operation, but you've given us detailed daily updates. Later you'll get your chance to examine the transcripts and sign them. Right now I want to know two things - who tipped off the Mexican police about the aliens and where are the missing aliens from Christianson's farm, in particular a certain Clarissa Lopez and her young daughter.'

The breath caught in Tony's throat as he gazed steadily at the wall behind Chappelle. 'Sir, I called the Mexican police.'

Chappelle nodded, his face its usual blank mask. 'Which part of my order did you fail to understand, Almeida? I recall I told you that I would deal with the situation.'

'Mr. Chappelle, I picked up that particular group,' Tony attempted to explain. 'I actually pointed my gun at them and forced them into that shed. I was just as responsible as Christianson himself for the fate of those people.'

'Nonsense, Almeida, you were working undercover,' Chappelle told him. 'You were working as a federal agent; at least you were until the time you decided to disobey my orders! Tell me why we planned this mission in the first place.'

Tony forced himself to quit squirming on the plastic chair. 'It was planned to catch smugglers like Christianson and take them out,' he stated, looking his boss in the eye.

'That's right. You were present at the beginning of the discussion when I informed you the immigration department has decided to solve this problem. You saw firsthand just what was happening, yet you chose to jeopardize this entire mission to save a handful of people. That was direct insubordination, Almeida!' His mouth turned downwards as he regarded Tony.

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed. 'Mr. Chappelle, if you care to check through my military records you'll find I was held prisoner together with my men for three days in a similar shed. We were all trained Marines in prime condition and we barely managed to avoid fatalities. I understand…'

Chappelle held up a hand to silence him and pulled his record from the laptop beside him. He studied it in silence for a few minutes while Tony struggled to think what he should say about Clarissa. 'So you were,' Chappelle began, startling him. 'You were tortured too, for giving your captors false information.'

'Sir, I was unable to watch my men die,' Tony explained. 'I chose to fabricate a story and buy them a little time. I was prepared to accept the consequences of my actions then sir, and I am now too.'

Chappelle regarded him with expressionless eyes. 'You're extremely fortunate the rescue panicked the smugglers and they chose to hold a meeting rather than disperse!'

Tony remained silent, his eyes attempting to gauge his boss's emotion._ Dammit, you just can't read this guy, Almeida. He might let it go, or he might have you arrested, and you haven't got a clue._ He lowered his eyes, awaiting his sentence.

'You deserve to be fired for insubordination, Almeida. However, as it happens your actions led to the outcome we all hoped for.'

_Yeah, you can receive the Immigration Department's thanks unexpectedly soon!_

'So I won't fire you. You're suspended till further notice. Try working against me again and I'll have you arrested.' Cold eyes met Tony's who nodded his understanding.

'Fine. Your suspension will last one month without pay. Now onto my second question. Where is Clarissa Lopez?'

_Damn you to hell for mentioning her, Christianson. You hate me, I understand that, but you're dragging her into this only for your personal revenge._ 'Sir, she was working in the kitchen when I went with Christianson in the morning,' Tony replied without the faintest trace of emotion on his face. 'I have no idea what happened at the farm after I left.' He stared at his boss, willing his lie to be accepted.

'Really? You might like to know that Christianson told me you two were having an affair, sharing accommodation. You assured him you were together before the mission.'

Tony nodded. 'Yes sir. It seemed the perfect cover for me, part of a family with a woman and child. He bought it.'

Chappelle frowned. 'Of course he bought it, Almeida. The question was where is the illegal immigrant with whom you were conducting an affair while you were undercover? Where is she now?'

'Sir, when I left the farm everything appeared normal,' Tony replied, congratulating himself on keeping a check on his emotions. 'I did spend time with her, but it was never as serious as Christianson seems to think.'

'You're telling me you have no idea of her whereabouts?' Chappelle questioned.

'Like I said sir, when I left the farm all appeared normal,' Tony repeated. 'Let me assure you, none of Christianson's aliens DARED wander round without permission. I can only assume she fled when the house was raided.' _Easy Almeida, you're doing great._

Chappelle raised his head disdainfully. 'The house was surrounded, Almeida. Nobody got in or out once our agents arrived.'

'Then she might have finished a few jobs and returned to the hut to rest,' Tony replied equally calmly. 'I've got to collect my own stuff from there too, sir.'

The door opened again and to his intense dismay Hammond entered. 'The teams are almost done, Ryan.' He stared coldly at Tony.

'Fine, Brad. Alright, Almeida, you may collect your things, as you're heading over there right away.'

Tony narrowed his eyes in puzzlement.

'I've assigned the task of mopping up to Mr. Hammond,' Chappelle informed him. 'He needs to find a few things to help nail Christianson. Give him your full cooperation.'

'Yes sir,' Tony replied, turning to face Hammond. 'What do you need, sir?'

'I need to find the book where Christianson kept a list of all his aliens. I understand from Jack that you actually saw it for yourself. It will form useful evidence against him.'

'Sir, you've got more than enough evidence,' Tony told him softly.

'I need that book, Almeida. Once we locate all the people on his list, California will no longer hold the record for the state with the highest illegal immigration. I need you to show me the location of that book.'

Tony nodded helpfully. 'I'll take you to his office, sir.'

'My men have searched the entire house,' Hammond snapped. 'They failed to locate anything. I want that book, Almeida. One of the smugglers we interrogated said you knew where he stashed it.'

Tony swallowed his fear down. 'I can't imagine why anyone would say such a thing, sir. He didn't trust me enough to show me things like that. My own name was on that list. I have no idea where that book can be.'

Hammond nodded. 'I'll give you exactly ten minutes to think about its location, Almeida. We will find that book, let me assure you, but doing so later will be useless. I suggest you remember who you're working for. Sit down!'

Tony sat back on his chair, his fists clenched at his sides.

'If you refuse to divulge the information at the end of the ten minutes, I'll have you prosecuted for holding up a government investigation. You will go to prison. It's entirely your choice.' He opened the door and left Tony alone in the holding room, his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage.


	15. Farewell To Clarissa

The eerie silence of the holding room threatened to crush the life out of Tony as he sat on the plastic chair, elbows on the table, head in his hands. Disconcerted by the lack of noise he considered his options and discarded them both_. You're up to your neck in this, Almeida._ He rubbed his face vigorously in a vain attempt to calm himself. _Focus, Almeida. You've faced the no win scenario before and managed to get yourself and your men out of it. Think hard._ Clarissa's words echoed back to him. _"You sold us out. People are going to be deported because of you…You're worse than the gringos, you're their lapdog! You saw what we went through to get here; doesn't that mean anything to you?"_ His heart ached and he ran his hands along his forehead, wincing with the unexpected pain the friction caused. _"Don't ever come near us again!"_ Hot tears filled his eyes which he blinked away furiously_. "You deserve to be fired for your actions, Almeida. That was direct insubordination…" "I'll have you prosecuted for holding up a government investigation. You will go to prison."_ He wiped moist fingers into his trousers, trembling. _"I brought my house. Can we bring it?" "We've all got our secrets, Tony. I love you."_ He squeezed his eyes shut. _"Don't ever come near us again…"_ Chewing his lip so hard it bled he rose from the chair and paced the narrow room. _"I'm ready to talk now, you bastards. Give my men water." "They're gonna find out I told them shit real soon."_ He sank back onto his chair as the door opened, admitting Hammond.

'You ready to cooperate with the investigation, Almeida?' he demanded.

'Sir, I assure you I'll do everything I can, but I'm not sure of the location of that book,' he pleaded.

Hammond's eyes turned colder. 'I see. I thought you might need something to help your shocking memory. Look through these and pick one. They're essentially similar but they do contain minor variations in their daily routines. Don't worry, Almeida, I'll give you fifteen minutes to choose. After all, you'll be spending the better part of your life there.' He laid two black and white booklets on the table in front of him. 'Take your time.'

Filled with foreboding he turned the booklets over, the blood freezing in his veins. Both contained pictures of prisons on their covers, one showing a prison complex from the air, the other sporting an even more nerve racking picture of the inside of a block with five rows of cells surrounded by a narrow tier, every door locked. The blood rushed to his head as he read their names. _God help me. I can't end up there_. Once again he buried his head in his hands, welcoming the sharp sting as they took its weight.

_You got an awful decision to make, Almeida. Whatever you choose, you'll be hated for the rest of your life. How the hell can you decide what to do?_ He rubbed his face in despair. _There's only one logical way to decide this, Almeida!_ _Who would be hurt more by your actions?_ Glancing at the table he saw himself held down by a group of militants in another dismal mission. "American dog, I will teach you about coming here and destroying my country." A shiver went through him as he relived being dragged outside the stone building and thrown into the village square surrounded by bearded men carrying stones. The translator threw the first one at him which he successfully dodged, hearing the echoing roar of the men as they hauled their own stones. "You tell us where the attack will take place, American, and I'll let you live." He had shaken his head, praying for a quick death. _I can't give up my career and my freedom. I've earned this position! I've NEVER let anyone down before!_ Once again the faces of the people on the truck came to him. "You don't need to be scared, Clarissa. I'm here, I'll help you." _So who would suffer more, Almeida? Blanca nearly died getting here. If they get deported they'll only try again, using more risky methods as they're out of cash! And they WILL get picked up sooner or later if you find that book. Their names will be entered on the INS database and someday, somewhere, once they're settled, they'll get picked up. Are you really prepared to ruin their lives, look them in the eye as they get rounded up? Did they harm anyone? You'd be the only one to suffer if they got to stay._ He bowed his head, breathing slowly before he straightened and pulled the documents closer, opening the nearer one.

His door opened and someone strode purposefully to the opposite chair. 'What the hell are you doing, Tony?' snapped a familiar voice expressing its customary indignation. Tony glanced up in silent relief. 'Give me that.' Jack reached for the untouched document and shook his head. 'I'll take those. Now Tony, I'm guessing you don't desire to visit either place.'

He shook his head in silent misery.

'Then why won't you show Hammond the book? It's all he needs.'

'I'm not real sure where it is,' Tony said softly, his mind numb.

'I think you'd find it soon enough if you went over his office,' Jack said. 'Go find it, Tony. You're already suspended for a month. I need you back after that.'

Tony blinked rapidly before he dared look up. 'I can't do that.'

Jack sighed aloud. _Now he's gonna blast you, Almeida._ 'You're sorry for the people you got to know while you were undercover, right?'

Tony inclined his head, praying for a reprieve.

'I'm guessing we've already got plenty of people with identical surnames in this country legally,' Jack said quietly. 'I don't think you gotta worry, Tony.'

'But those on the nearby properties will be arrested,' he said softly. 'Jack, I saw how they lived. You better hand those leaflets back to me.'

Jack exhaled sharply. 'Think about it for a moment, would you. Do you seriously imagine they're still there after the raid on Christianson's farm? I'm guessing they used this opportunity to run for their lives. Go do your job, Tony.'

Tony studied him in silence, his thoughts spinning. The door opened again and Hammond returned, frowning at Jack. 'He's supposed to be alone, Jack. You picked a place, Almeida?'

'Brad, Tony's willing to help you,' Jack assured him, getting up to face Hammond. 'He'll find that book – I give you my word. Come on, I'll drive you.' Without another word he held the door open, returning both leaflets to the outraged Hammond. Tony pushed himself up, gasping in pain. He slipped past Hammond without glancing at him and followed Jack outside and across the car park. The sea breeze never felt as refreshing as it did ruffling his hair.

Jack glanced compassionately at the silent agent beside him on the drive. The man's clenched fists were white and his mouth was set in a tight line, highlighted by his somber dark eyes. 'Wanna give me directions?' he asked as he turned off the highway. Tony replied in monosyllables, guiding him over to the gate. Without a word he climbed out of the car and opened it, the rigid mask never leaving his face. 'Where's the main house?'

'Up ahead,' he muttered as he climbed back in. The place crawled with LAPD as they parked. Jack showed his ID and entered the house curiously. 'Quite a large place,' he remarked, his eyes roving the long corridors. 'Where's his office?'

Tony pushed past him and set off at a rapid pace needing a moment to compose himself. He was grateful to Jack for saving him from Hammond but was unable to dispel a lingering resentment at having been forced on the mission. He opened a sturdy wooden door and moved across the room where he rested his head against the glass. _Focus Almeida. You gotta locate this book if you want a hope of seeing Clarissa again. You got things to give her, you'd better hurry._

'If you'd describe it,' Jack suggested patiently.

Tony turned back and nodded. 'It was a simple grey exercise book, the kind kids take to school. I saw him put it away when I worked outside his window.' Slowly he moved over to the ransacked cupboard and knelt down, the parquet hard under his knees. He glanced round at Jack who stood over him. 'Got a knife?' Jack handed him one and he pushed it between two pieces of wood, pulling one up. 'It's in here. You wanna go check what those cops are doing for a moment?' Jack threw him a stern look and left the room, holding up three fingers. He opened the book rapidly, running his eyes across the list of names until he discovered Clarissa's. Carefully he removed the sheet from the book, folding the clips back. He slid the folded sheet inside his jeans pocket and tiptoed to the door. Jack appeared busy discussing something with a police captain slightly out of earshot. He opened the book again, sitting at Christianson's desk to examine it in detail. _Name, surname, date and place of birth._ _Not that much to go on, really. None of these names stand out in any way…_

Jack returned, glancing at him, moving to the desk when he nodded. He held out his hand and Tony deposited the fat grey exercise book into it. 'Am I free to go now? There's some stuff I need to collect.'

'Yeah. Thanks Tony, you did the right thing.'

Tony paused in the doorway, throwing him a doubtful look before he turned and slipped silently from the room. Jack settled at the smuggler's desk and opened it, reading the list of names aloud in a soft murmur.

The hut appeared deserted as he approached. Tony chewed his lower lip; aware Clarissa was no longer there to welcome him and took a deep breath as he entered it for the final time. _You never got round to washing the windows!_ Slowly he took a step forward and sank onto a kitchen chair. The urge to bury his head in his hands proved overwhelming and he allowed himself to curse fate, having thrown him together with a real friend and so cruelly ripped their friendship apart. A few minutes later he rose, determined to collect his things before any agents arrived to search the place. He threw the clothes on the line into his backpack and glanced through the blankets, discovering one of Clarissa's t-shirts and a toy armchair. Heart aching, he slipped them on top of his things and bent to collect his guitar. _Don't pretend you'll miss this dump!_ He knew he wouldn't, he would miss the friendship he had formed within it.

'Is this where you stayed?' Jack inquired, stepping through the open doorway. Tony gave a slight nod and climbed the ladder to the attic, lifting the hatch. He pulled himself up and felt for the phone and the bundle of money, handing them down to his boss.

'It's all there, Jack, apart from the 5000 dollars I paid him, which you'll find listed in the book.'

Jack stared at the money in his palm. 'I didn't doubt you, Tony,' he told his subordinate.

'Count it,' Tony insisted, pulling a chair out by its back legs and thrusting it at him. 'I don't wanna hear about thieving Latinos in the future. I didn't waste a dollar!' Eyes narrowed and lips pressed together he remained motionless while Jack counted it all out on the kitchen table. 'I need a receipt now!'

Jack glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes before he nodded and tore an empty page from the exercise book. 'There you go, Tony. Look, I know Hammond gave you a hard time over at Division, but…'

'But I'll deal with it,' Tony interrupted, heaving his backpack onto his shoulders. 'Now if I'm not required for anything further, I'd like to go home.' Their eyes met, Tony forcing his anxiety aside.

'Sure,' Jack agreed, getting up. 'I'll call you at home if I need anything further. Good luck,' he said quietly, aware of the approach of Hammond who puffed as he crossed the field.

'Where's the book, Almeida?' he demanded, blocking their exit. 'You were supposed to wait for me in the house.'

'I got it, Brad,' Jack assured him, handing it over. 'Tony, take Jones's car, he can ride back with the rest of the agents when they're done. Just return it to CTU.'

Tony thanked him and walked past Hammond avoiding his gaze, not trusting himself to remain silent. 'Not so fast, Almeida. You'll leave when I dismiss you!' Hammond leafed through the book studying the names and dates in minute detail. After leafing through the entire exercise book he reluctantly raised his eyes. 'It appears detailed enough. You may go now.' Tony stepped forward. 'Wait a moment.' Hammond moved closer to him, his eyes boring into the depths of his soul. 'This better be the complete record, Almeida, otherwise you will join Luis Torres. He didn't exactly last long once we established law and order! How long was he a citizen of this country? Three months? Four?' Fingers clasped round the book he strode from the room, leaving him shaking in silent rage.

'Who the hell's that?' Jack demanded, eyeing Tony's white fingers grasping his rifle warily, determined to protect Hammond from a bullet in the back. Tony refused to reply, working off his rage by slamming his fist into the wall with full strength, raising a crack along a plank. He hissed aloud in pain from his injured hand, burying his head in the wall. 'Tony, don't make me repeat my question. Who the hell's Torres? I never heard of him.'

Tony turned to face him, raised his eyebrows and pinned him with a sarcastic glare. 'You don't need to concern yourself about him, Jack. He can't hurt you anymore.'

Jack's patience snapped and he raised his index finger, shoving it into Tony's face. 'You tell me right now, Tony. That's an order!'

'Fine,' Tony snapped back, taking a deep breath. 'He was one of my ancestors, right, from Texas. He owned a ranch with thousands of head of cattle. His neighbors envied him his land; they kept paying bandits to raid his herds. Torres failed to find justice in the local courts, so one day, once he was pushed beyond his limit, he rounded up his own men, raided that guy's property, drove off 2000 head of cattle right over the Rio Grande and sold the whole lot of 'em at bargain price to a guy heading south that same day. Smith, the neighbor, sent the Texas Rangers after him. They picked him up, brought him back and locked him in the local jail, where he was tried and hanged the same day! Satisfied now?'

Jack gazed at him bewildered. 'I'm real sorry, Tony. Hammond had no right bringing it up. Look, take it easy during this month, ok? I want you back focused.'

Tony nodded and walked to the main house, praying he would avoid a second meeting with Hammond. To his relief the grounds appeared deserted, enabling him to get into the CTU car and leave. He drove over to his sister's house as fast as he could and unlocked the door, failing to push his hope away. _Maybe she's forgiven you, Almeida. _One look at her tight lips showed him otherwise. She avoided his eyes as he closed the door softly behind him.

Blanca raced into his arms and he swung her up, carrying her into the family room. 'I found something,' he told her, handing her the missing armchair. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he laid his cheek close to hers. 'Your flight leaves in two hours. I'll give Blanca a bath,' he said quietly, carrying her upstairs without waiting for an objection.

'This is a beautiful house,' the child told him as he filled the bath and undressed her. 'Your sister must be very rich.'

'Her husband is,' he replied, adding a little bubble bath. 'I'll be right back.' He moved into Sandy's room and opened her closet, selecting a green dress he had bought for her a year ago that she had grown out of. 'What do you think of this, princess?'

'It's lovely,' she cried in pure joy and he dried her, putting it on.

'It'll be perfect for your first flight,' he told her smiling at her. 'Blanca, I need you to do something for me.'

The child nodded and he withdrew an envelope from his pocket. 'Your mama's a little cross with me right now, so I can't give this to her. Will you do that for me once you get on the plane?' She nodded again, placing the envelope into the dress's pocket.

'Did you do something bad, Tony?' she asked as he opened the cabinet and withdrew a hairbrush and butterfly clip. 'Mama's not talking to you.'

He nodded gently, brushing the tangles from her hair the same way he tidied his own niece whenever she spent the weekend with him. 'I did. She'll forgive me one day, but it won't be for a while. We still friends?' he asked causally. The child nodded and gave him a hug which he returned, pulling her tightly towards him. 'I wrote my address and phone number down there, princess. If you or your mama need anything, I want you to call me. Anytime, ok?'

She nodded again and he carried her out, depositing her on the couch. Clarissa glanced at her startled before glaring at him. 'I don't need charity, Tony!'

'Sandy's grown out of it,' he assured her, noting the fury in her eyes. 'We got a few minutes before it's time to go.' Avoiding her gaze he moved to the bookcase and lifted a small children's book down, taking Blanca in his arms. 'You ever heard of Chicken Licken, princess? It's my niece's favorite story. You listen quietly and I'll read it to you.' He read slowly, explaining the beginning in Spanish, amazed to note how soon she caught on, repeating the string of birds with loud giggles. He risked a glance at Clarissa, regretting it as her eyes flashed with fury. 'We should go now.'

The trip to the airport appeared to last forever as it passed in uncomfortable silence. Blanca sat at the back clutching her house, glancing from one rigid back to the other. He breathed a sigh of relief as they arrived and he carried their stuff over to the counter. Clarissa claimed their tickets and he led them further inside the building. 'How do you know the way, Tony?' Blanca pressed, her hand gripping his trustingly.

'He's been here before,' Clarissa told her. 'We'll be alright from here, Tony. You can leave now. Thanks for the tickets, but I guess I paid for them.'

Tony gasped as the blood rushed to his face. He shook his head blinking hot tears away and reached for her hand. 'The tickets are a gift. I want you to know something, Clarissa. You're the best friend I ever had. What we had was real – I kinda hoped it would be permanent.' He tightened his grip on her fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze for goodbye. 'Good luck,' he said, ruffling the child's hair before he turned and strode away, his heart threatening to burst. Once he rounded a corner he paused, staring through the window at the row of airplanes along the side of the building. Chewing his lip he turned and retraced his steps, using his skills to track them until they boarded their flight, determined to make certain they remained undetected. Forehead pressed against the glass window he watched their plane taxi to the runway, pause a couple of seconds and begin its run, gathering speed until the front wheels lifted off the tarmac and the plane rose steadily into the cloudless sky. He was certain he would never see either of them again.

He moved through the throng of passengers and returned to the car, aware he had a lot of things that required his attention that evening but unable to pick up his life. Head in his hands he allowed his eyes to roam the car park while he sat immobile. It took almost superhuman effort to start the car and return it to CTU. Jack met him as he handed the keys over, telling him something about the neighboring farms having been found deserted. The bus ride towards his parents' house passed in a blur and he was grateful for the twenty minute walk that faced him, knowing he needed the time to compose himself if he had a hope of asking for his car in anything resembling his normal tone. _She'll be sitting beside Blanca on the plane, eating._ He wondered whether she thought of him.

'Sweetheart, what happened?' his mother cried, drawing him into her arms as she took one look at him standing in the door, shoulders slumped in defeat. He shook his head rapidly and opened his mouth to assure her he was fine but the words refused to be forced out. A sob left him instead as he buried his face in her shoulder.

Mercifully they had the house to themselves. Tony allowed her to lead him inside and sit him on the couch and accepted the glass of warm milk she handed him moments later. He sat beside her wordless, sipping his drink and struggling to force thoughts of the plane from his mind. 'I need my car,' he explained half an hour later, unsurprised to find the room dim.

His mother shook her head. 'You're in no condition to return to your apartment tonight, sweetheart. You're staying here. It's ok; Joey and Maria are at a party. You'll eat with us.'

Lacking the necessary energy to disagree Tony gave a slight nod, watching her start dinner in the kitchen without making a move to turn on the lights. The room had never been as silent as he sat by himself. 'I'm never gonna have what you guys got,' he muttered when his mother looked in on him. He sighed heavily, aware she needed an explanation. 'I met someone while I was undercover. She was smart, funny; she was a real good friend. She hates me now.'

'Oh sweetheart,' his mother said gently, hugging him again. 'I'm real sorry. Tony, I'm not surprised she hated your job, you know I do too.' He managed to nod. 'One day you'll meet someone perfect, but you got to be honest with her. Undercover work doesn't lead to trust, believe me. You'll know who she is when you first set eyes on her.'

He raised his head startled, unused to hearing such comments from his mother. 'Really?'

'Oh yes. Ask your father. We knew, the moment we saw each other. She's coming, Tony, your perfect friend. You just have to wait a little longer. And when she does, there's nothing in the world you wouldn't do for her. I know you well, sweetheart. The woman you'll marry will be real fortunate.'

He nodded slowly, considering her words. 'Yeah.'


	16. Unexpected Visitor

**EPILOGUE -** 8 YEARS LATER

Tony finished his two hundredth push-up and rolled over, wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead. He listened to his slight panting, barely audible over the ceaseless racket surrounding him from every side and echoing through the vast building. Narrowing his eyes he pulled himself up and crossed the floor in two short strides, pressing his face to the bars. The scene that met his eyes was identical to the one he saw every time he stared outside. A note sailed past him, somewhere a shriek ripped the air causing a shiver to run down his spine, and directly across the floor his new friend waved. His lips moved in greeting but his words merged into the general babble. A faint smile crossed his lips as he nodded back.

Tony moved to the back of his cell and turned the tap on, rinsing his face and teeth. He removed his orange jumpsuit and t-shirt and cupped his hands, washing as well as he was able, his threadbare blue towel tied round his waist. Dressing rapidly to avoid the slight chill endemic to prison existence he brushed his hair and returned to the corner he spent hours of his waking time sitting in, assuming his customary position with his back leaning against the wall and his legs stretched out, brushing the edge of the bed. He unfolded a worn letter unhurriedly and read it to himself, muttering the words aloud before he reached them. If he was lucky he would receive another that morning after breakfast. Of course his parents and Michelle had written the day before, but there was no harm in hoping. Or at least he was unwilling to prevent himself doing so. He wasn't perfect; he required some kindness to get through the long day that awaited him.

A siren wailed through the block and he folded the letter carefully and replaced it on the narrow shelf above his bed. By the time the doors slid open he had assumed the correct position, a foot from the bars with his hands clasped behind his back. He followed the queue along the tier and down the stairs, joining the winding queue outside the dining hall. They moved forward slowly and presently Tony collected a tray and stood before the serving hatch receiving his customary bowl of porridge, plate of slightly burned toast with a scraping of margarine and his cup of lukewarm tea. Taking care not to get jostled he worked his way over to the back of the hall where his group awaited him.

'Buenos dias,' greeted the leader of the gang of car thieves who had befriended him on his arrival, nodding his head in his direction.

'Buenos dias,' he replied to the entire table, taking his place beside the most colorful character, a man with a tattoo of a hawk in full flight across his arm. 'Hey Sanchez.'

'I saw you exercising, amigo,' the man replied, a bemused expression on his face. 'Why do you bother?'

Tony shrugged. Eight years with the Marines had drilled the importance of exercise too deeply into him for him to abandon the practice despite his imprisonment. 'Sure don't wanna get sick in this place,' he replied. 'So today's the big day.'

'About time too,' Sanchez grumbled. 'One week in the strip cell for a slight scuffle! It's not as though we go round looking for trouble. Those bikers are a curse! How's your eye, amigo?'

Tony ran a finger along his cheek and shrugged. 'You tell me. I haven't seen the bruise yet! I could sure use a shower.'

'We might get one today,' Rodriguez told them, finishing his porridge. 'Right now we should go outside before anyone changes their mind.'

'Yeah. It's time to return to the great outdoors,' Tony muttered sarcastically, swallowing a little of his porridge with his tea to disguise the taste. 'I didn't thank you guys for sticking up for me,' he added, watching their shrugs. 'I'd be in the morgue by now without you.'

'Amigo, no one can fight ten men alone, specially if they got shanks,' Sanchez assured him. 'They'll leave you alone in the end; you're just too tempting a target at the moment. You fight real well, you were a cop and the guards hate you.'

'I was never a cop,' Tony replied warily, having grown sick of arguing the point over the previous four months. 'I was a federal agent. I wish those bastards would understand that!'

'They will, once they get someone else to pick on,' Sanchez assured him, his eyes sparkling. 'You got to be patient, amigo.'

'And when is that likely to happen?' Tony inquired, stirring his now cold tea.

'In a year or so,' Rodriguez explained. 'Let's go.' They returned their dishes and trays and hurried outside into an overcast day. Tony's eyes moved upwards to search for the sun but the clouds were too thick to enable him to catch a glimpse of it. Instead he breathed the fresh air deep into his lungs, aware the slightest misdemeanor (make that a natural desire to defend himself) would result in yet another rules violation and would see him confined indoors for a further week. It was bound to happen again that week; he just prayed it would not be that day. Avoiding the benches he followed the Latino gang to their corner of the yard, settling down to game of basketball.

'Bloody spics,' called the bikers, moving closer to the game. 'You're out again, are you? Morning, cop! Your eye's almost better. What do you think, boys, has he learned his lesson yet?'

'Nah,' another thug replied, spitting on Tony's left shoe. 'Don't look like he has.'

'What the hell's going on?' demanded a uniformed presence. They all fell silent, the bikers slinking away.

'Nothing sir,' Rodriguez was quick to assure him.

'Hm. I'm watching you. Convict Almeida, hands behind your back!' He withdrew a pair of cuffs and slid them round Tony's wrists.

'Why, sir? I haven't done anything,' Tony protested even as he complied with the order. The steel clicked shut round his wrists as he turned to argue his case.

'Forget it. You're off to admin. You got a visitor,' the guard snapped, removing his stun baton. 'Get over to that wall.'

Tony exchanged puzzled glances with the group and moved over to the wall where a second guard shackled his feet and attached a chain round his waist, fastening his hands and feet to it. The stun baton was placed at his neck and he was led out of B Block and across the courtyard to admin and over to the hall reserved for visitor contact. Tony went through the customary strip search and was dressed and shackled again before he was permitted to enter the hall. He followed his guards to the end of the row and sat in the chair they pointed him to, waiting patiently while they shackled his ankles to its legs and freed a wrist to enable him to access the phone. They left without a word and he rubbed his face, unable to guess who had come to speak to him. Michelle had visited him the previous week and was now back in Seattle and his parents were not due till the end of the following week. He had already used up his permitted visiting hours that month.

A shadow fell across his desk and he glanced up, shocked into silence. Speechless, he watched her settle across the glass barrier and raise her head to examine him, large brown eyes searching his own. Her hands reached for the phone and he grasped his own. 'Hello Tony.' She fell silent and he forced himself to speak.

'What are you doing here?' It sounded rude to him as the words left his mouth. 'I haven't heard from you for eight years.' _You had to stop yourself from checking on her dozens of times for the first two years Almeida, aware of her right to privacy. You checked the mail daily in hopes of getting a letter, especially after she discovered your gift, all to no avail. It took three years before you were over her._

Clarissa shrugged. 'You told me I could come ask you for help anytime,' she reminded him. 'You wrote your address on that card you gave Blanca. I didn't have a chance to thank you for that five thousand dollars you gave us. As it happens, we needed it.'

'You're welcome,' he assured her, bewildered.

'Of course you no longer had the apartment, but I called the second number you gave. Your father told me you were here. He said you were married and someone kidnapped your wife and you let him go to save her life. I'm real sorry,' she added softly and her eyes filled with tears. 'You don't deserve this. How long have you got?'

'Life,' he told her, chewing his lower lip. Despite having endured four months of confinement, the reality of his sentence had only recently sunk in. The remainder of his life stretched ahead into dreary infinity, terrifying him whenever he considered it.

He saw shock register on her face. 'Oh no. That's terrible. They're going to keep you here until…' Her voice trailed off and he nodded.

'Sí, until I die.' _The way you're going, Almeida, it shouldn't be too far away. _The silence stretched between them. 'So how about you,' he asked, noting the sad look she cast him. 'How's life? How's Blanca?'

'She's fine. She's still got that house you bought her.' Clarissa smiled at him and he managed to smile back at her.

'That's good,' he said. 'It's been a while. What about you?' He used his interrogator's skills to study her, noting she appeared fine.

'I'm doing well too. I got married two years ago,' she told him quietly. 'He's a gringo.'

'How did that happen?' he asked amused. 'You learned English real fast.'

'I had to. I got a job in a café, and he just kept coming to order more coffees. He's an engineer, Tony, he works on oil wells. We got a baby girl.'

'Is he good to Blanca?' Tony asked, remembering the tiny hand grasping his own with complete trust at the airport.

'Sí, he's great. She likes him. Tony, he got a contract to work in Venezuela. We're going with him. It will be great, I'll get to see my family again, and we'll live in a good place too.'

He nodded, pleased for her. 'That's great. You deserve it, Clarissa. Have you forgiven me?'

'Of course. You have your job Tony, I understand.'

Tony lowered his eyes, rubbing his cheek again. 'I'm not a federal agent anymore, as you can see,' he said ruefully, nodding his head at the chains. Another silence stretched between them. 'I don't understand how they let you in,' he said, frowning mildly. 'Visiting privileges extend to family members only.'

'They wanted to deny my visit, but I showed them a paper,' Clarissa told him, her eyes darting uneasily round the room. 'Then they said its okay this once.'

'What paper?' he asked, noting her unease with apprehension. 'Are you sure you're okay, Clarissa?'

'Sí,' she assured him, taking a deep breath. 'I was going to bring him to visit you, but I won't bring him here, of course.'

'Who?' Tony asked, a strange unease rising from the pit of his stomach. 'What paper, Clarissa?'

She opened her bag and produced a stiff white envelope, laying it on her side of the counter. "Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages" it said in bold type. His unease increased as she pulled the document from it. Slowly she pressed it against the glass and he leant closer to read the small script. He read it several times while his thoughts whirled through his head.

'Is he mine?' he questioned, feeling the need to make certain despite his own name written on the form.

Clarissa nodded. 'I was going to tell you something that last day only we didn't have time,' she reminded him. 'He's yours alright, Tony. He looks exactly like you and he even rubs his face.' She looked at him gently, reading the shock in his eyes. 'It's okay; you don't have to do anything. Stephen earns well, we can afford to send them all to good schools. He just wanted to know who was his father, some kids gave him a hard time at school and I thought if you didn't mind you could talk to him once before…' She shrugged in apology. 'I'll think of something to tell him.'

'Wait,' Tony begged, his fingers brushing against the glass in his impatience to question her. 'I can write to him.'

He watched her shake her head. 'It wouldn't be such a great idea. He's only seven years old, he wouldn't understand. I'll tell him I couldn't find you.'

Tony hung his head, his momentary excitement quelled. 'You're probably right. I'm not exactly a desirable father.' Again the silence stretched between them while she pulled another paper from her bag.

'Stephen wants to adopt him,' she said hurriedly. 'He already adopted Blanca – Miguel signed happily enough after he received 10 000 dollars. I need your signature on this document, to give up all rights to Tony. That soldier over there said he'd pass it to you,' she added in a hurry, nodding her head at the guard.

Tony stared at her shocked into silence for the third time in twenty minutes. Her arrival, her news, and now her request were a lot to handle in such short time. 'You named him after me,' he began. 'Why?'

'He's so like you it seemed right,' she told him, her fingers over the documents. 'Blanca started calling him that when I took him home from the hospital and I guess it just stuck with him. I never planned for you to know about him. You had your own life, Tony. We got ours now. Sign the papers.' Intense brown eyes met his. 'Do it for him, please. He needs a father.'

'If I do that I'll never get to hear about him again,' he protested, his heart aching. 'It won't work, Clarissa. He'll know this Stephen isn't his father.'

'He already knows,' she assured him. 'They call him by his first name but they get on really well. Tony, he was just crawling when he first met Stephen. Stephen's _been_ his father all his life. It would just help with foreign travel and things if he'd be his legal guardian too, in case he wants to take the kids somewhere for a weekend and I don't wish to go. Look, it's not like you can do anything with a child in here. You never met him, you're not gonna miss him.'

Tony chewed his lip in silence, understanding her logic but rebelling against it. 'Have you got a picture of him? I'd love to see what he's like,' he begged, willing her to produce one.

Clarissa nodded after a few seconds. 'Sí. I'll give it to you after you sign.'

'At least show me,' he insisted. 'I need to know what I'm giving up.' She nodded and held up a small photo of a wavy brown haired child grinning mischievously at the camera. He stared at it in silence. _You couldn't deny him if you tried, Almeida. He's exactly like you._ Even the eyes that grinned at him reminded him of his own carefree childhood, his thoughts occupied with planning the next mischief. A lump rose into his throat. His fingers reached forward to brush against the glass directly parallel with the photo. 'I can't do it,' he told her softly, aware of her righteous indignation. He was letting her down a second time, equally unintentionally, but he couldn't expect her to see that.

'Tony, you're an intelligent man. Look around you. What could you offer him, now or ever? Only the shame of having a convict for a father. You want him to grow up knowing that?' She pushed the paper against the counter a little more impatiently.

'You're right,' he told her, chewing his lip. 'Clarissa, everything you said is perfectly logical, but… I can't do it.' _You're unlikely to have kids again, Almeida, stuck in here_. 'I can't just sign him over and never hear about him again. He's mine, dammit.'

'No he's not,' she told him, beginning to grow annoyed. 'You were unaware of his existence until a few minutes ago. He was never yours. Sign the papers, Tony.'

'I need to know how he is,' Tony protested. 'I need to know that, Clarissa. Sure I didn't know about him before - you never told me anything, but I do now. I can't just tell you I don't care about him, coz I do. Even if I got nothing to offer I still care.'

Their eyes met and she sighed aloud. 'I'll let you know how he is,' she promised. 'Tony, he'll look at his birth certificate when he grows up, everybody always does. If he wants to find you, I won't stop him. Right now he's a little kid who has the chance to get a great father. You gotta sign that form.'

Tony stared at her through the glass in silent misery_. I only just found out about him. I don't even know what he likes to eat, what his favorite toys are._ He shook his head at her.

'Tony, I'll take the matter to court if I must,' she told him, her tone threatening. 'I won't have you ruin his chances. You really want that? He's my son; I'll do anything to make his life easy. Understand me, Tony; I don't want to hurt you, just to assure him a better future. Don't challenge me on this. You wouldn't have a hope,' she assured him with total conviction and he knew she was right. Legally he lacked a leg to stand on. He was a convicted traitor serving a life sentence in a maximum security penitentiary who had been unaware of the existence of the child. Assigning custody to Stephen would be a mere formality for any judge.

'You promise you'll let me know how he is?' he asked, his impassive mask back on his face. She nodded agreement. 'I wanna write him a letter for when he grows up. I want him to know I didn't sign away all my paternity rights because I didn't care about him. Will you give it to him?'

She nodded again. 'I will. I'll go hand those forms over to that soldier now.'

Tony nodded, forcing the tears to the back of his eyes. 'Yeah. And the photo,' he insisted, watching her nod. 'If by some miracle I get outa here, I want to meet him,' he said, watching her reaction with the same attention he had reserved for terrorists under interrogation back at CTU. 'I won't interfere in your lives; I just want to say hi.'

'If they let you out, you'd be welcome,' she assured him. She collected the documents and handed them to the guard in the booth who examined them in detail before handing them over to a second guard. All too soon they were set before him together with a pen. _God help me. Protect my child as I can't. Watch over him for me, keep him safe, let him be happy._ Trembling fingers picked up the pen. 'You'll hand him my letter when he turns 18?' he begged.

'I promise I will.'

Tony nodded, unable to delay the inevitable. He signed her document in all the places her lawyer had marked with an X and handed them back to the guard before he composed himself enough to glance at her. She remained on her seat watching him, pity in her face. 'I'll pray for you, Tony. You're too good for your job. You protected Blanca and me and now you're here for saving your wife. You shouldn't worry about others, look where it got you.'

He stared in mute silence at her, watching her place the documents into the envelopes. 'Tell him, tell him…' He fell silent, his mind surging with thousands of things he wished to say to his son. 'Tell him I'll always think about him,' he concluded lamely.

Clarissa nodded, standing up to leave. 'You know I will. Write the letter and I'll put it aside for him. Goodbye, Tony.' She replaced her phone before he could reply and walked away rapidly without glancing back at him.

'Goodbye,' he whispered into the air, replacing his phone and lifting the photo to examine it. Warm brown eyes smiled up at him warming his heart._ I'm going back to my cell now, m'ijo. Your mom said she would pass you one letter when you're a little older. I'm gonna explain my actions to you so you won't feel so ashamed of me. I'll start right at the beginning and tell you all about my family, my schools, the marines, CTU, everything up until that fateful day when I allowed a terrorist to escape. Maybe you will find it possible to forgive me and come visit me._ He swallowed. He had something to look forward to for the next eleven years, a reason to struggle through each succeeding day. He had a child, and if nothing else, he was determined to be kept appraised of his well-being, resolved to call the few remaining friends who owed him favors to pull strings to ease his life.

THE END

_Thanks for the reviews, they meant a lot to me._


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